“What?” I stare at him in disbelief. “I thought we were headed to some romantic getaway at the beach and all of a sudden we’re opening a nightclub?” I squawk, staring down at my cutoffs and flip-flops with a newfound level of remorse. I wore the red string bikini that acts more as a nipple shield just to impress the hell out of his penis, although he sort of had me at “a joint venture.”
“It’ll be fun. I’ll buy you lunch.” He nods over at Johnny Burger’s, and I’m quick to shoot him down. “Or, I can speed like hell, and we can get it over with quickly as possible.”
The truck slides out from under us, and I smack him in the shoulder before he slows back down. Dell was right, Morgan Jordan is trouble. My cheeks flush just thinking about all the ways he’s wrong for me and yet, a part of him has already settled in that sweet spot in my heart.
A stunted silence fills the space between us.
“I’m seeing Ruby in a few days,” I whisper.
“That’s great.” Morgan looks over and gives a tender smile. “What’s on the agenda? Mani, pedi—mall?”
“No, but that’s an awesome lineup. You’d make a great dad.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I was thinking more movie and ice cream.”
“Even better. I like a woman who’s smarter than me.”
Another beat of silence strokes by.
“Come on.” He ticks his head to the side. “I set you up for a good one. Hit me with your best shot. I say, I like a woman who’s smarter than me and you say—that’s not hard to find.” He shakes his head. “I’m sure you could do better.”
“No, I can’t do better because I don’t think it’s true. You’re one of the kindest, most intelligent, crafty”—I hold up the flyer as evidence—“guys I know. And I think you’re damn good-looking to boot—so there. Theory refuted. Intelligence and hotness verified.”
He looks over at me and studies me with serious intent.
“If you say so. You’re the boss.” His dimples dart in and out as if they agree. “So is that what you were going to tell me last night before we got interrupted?”
“Um…” I bite down on my lip. I’m pretty sure telling someone you love him for the first time shouldn’t be done on the interstate when he’s driving a robust twenty miles over the speed limit. “I’ll hold off until all possibilities of vehicular homicide have been extinguished.” Heat rises to my cheeks. It was sort of a lame thing to say in lieu of “I love you.” “Besides, I don’t want to think about what happened last night. What the hell kind of lunatic is Molly anyway?”
“She’s determined, that’s for sure.”
“Spoiled little rich girl.” I lean back into my seat.
“I don’t know about that. Cruise doesn’t exactly look like he’s rolling in it.”
“Okay, so she’s just a spoiled little girl minus the rich. I don’t really care what she is, but if she thinks she’s going to pull another stunt like that she’s got another think coming. I think it’s time I have a little conversation with her.” I’d better sharpen my claws first.
“Be careful.” He twists his lips to the side. “I’m guessing Molly has a nasty sting that neither of us wants anything to do with.”
I wish I could say it was Molly who had better be careful, but in all honesty, it’s not like I’m going to pull her into some knock ’em down, drag it out catfight. I’ve always looked at her like some kid, not some boyfriend-stealing tramp. I cut a sideways glance at Morgan. I guess in a roundabout way he is my boyfriend. A wave of heat pulses over me at the idea. I haven’t had a boyfriend in forever. Well, not unless you count Rory, and that was a federal catastrophe that an entire legal team could attest to. I shake the thought out of my mind. “Anyway, as far as Molly goes, I’ll simply shoo her away and hope she finds another drop-dead gorgeous boy to sneak into bed with.” I reach over and spin a soft circle over his knee. Morgan catches my hand and buries a kiss in my palm. “So you were really going to withhold that rock-hard body until I told you how I feel?” It comes from me weak, as if I regretted the words as they flew from my lips.
“I was and thankfully did.” His eyes widen at what might have been if he didn’t. “And, by the way, from now on we’ll be conducting our dirty little secret with the lights on just to be safe.”
“Duly noted.” My insides burn at the thought of Morgan seeing me splayed out like that. I try to imagine Morgan watching me, expecting things that my body seems to have the inability to produce. A breath escapes me as the heated visual bounces through my mind.
Once we arrive in front of Garrison, Morgan takes a turn onto the side streets.
“You’ll have to hit Greek row.” I guide him until we land on the street with oversized boxy houses the size of apartment buildings. “So how do I do this?” I reach back and pick up a stack. “Do you want me to run up and ask if they want to come?”
“Nah. Here.” He doubles the stack in my hands and pulls slowly in front of Alpha Sigma. We’re just going to crop-dust the shit out of the neighborhood.”
The flyers flutter from my hand like leaves in the fall. Morgan honks his way up and down the street until a crowd has amassed and people are scooping up the orange papers like they contain some nuclear doomsday warning.
I laugh as we hightail it out of there and head back onto the highway.
“Hey, you know what?” I say, startled by my own revelation. “If we can get a bunch of people to show up, we can make some serious money.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, baby.” He holds out his hand, and I slap him some skin.
Money. The thought of having any sweeps over me like my own private summer.
“We could be sitting on a gold mine. I could pay off my credit cards, and even buy a few books next semester.” A breath gets caught in my throat. “You think we can move out on our own?” Even if it were temporary, it’d be amazing to be alone with Morgan.
“Gee, I don’t know if Mom and Dad will let us.” He jostles my knee and a line of fire rips up my thigh from his simple touch. “That’s the plan, girl.” He touches his finger to my cheek. “That is the plan.”
I take him in. Mr. Gorgeous, Mr. All-Around Perfect—and I do believe Morgan Jordan is my Mr. Right.
“Thank you,” I say a little quieter than necessary.
And, later tonight, I plan on thanking him in an entire catalog of unforgettable ways.
We spend all afternoon littering the neighborhoods of anyone we think might be a potential customer to our new joint venture that involves dancing and debauchery. And unfortunately, much of the evening is spent maxing out Morgan’s credit cards while driving down the inventory of every liquor store in a ten-mile radius.
By the time the club opens at 10 P.M., we’ve gone home and changed. I’m in my requisite or, more to the point, one and only little black dress, and Morgan is in his usual uniform of jeans and a T-shirt. But, I must say, Morgan Jordan glows hotter than a firebrand with his hair slicked back, the shadow of stubble on his face, and those electric-blue eyes that seem to be backlit. I can feel a serious meltdown taking place in my panties, and I’m pretty sure he’d solve my problems in the pleasure domain, right here if I wanted.
He sears me with a heated kiss and my insides quiver. Morgan holds the scent of soap and mouthwash, his high-octane cologne that has the ability to intoxicate me all on its own.
“You ready to do this?” he shouts above the music streaming from the speakers he’s deposited all over the place—another hit to his seemingly bottomless credit card.
Cal is out front collecting the cover charge, and already there’s a steady stream of bodies filtering in.
“I think we’re already doing it.” I bite down on a smile as I run my fingers over his bristled cheek, the hard curve of his neck. I look around at the basement with its strange low lighting, the bar tucked in t
he corner, and not much else other than a span of space that opens up to a few rooms off the back. “Do you know how to tend bar? Because if you’re counting on me to do it, the only things we’ll be serving are wine coolers and beer.”
“It’s Steven’s day off.” He winks.
“Steven?” Then it hits me. Steven is the bartender from Pretty Girls. “Dell is so going to kill you.” And perhaps me in the process.
“For that? I doubt it.” He shakes his head and nods toward the entrance as bodies begin streaming in. “But for that, just maybe.”
I turn back and gasp. Six girls from the Gentlemen’s Club stride in with their five-inch FM heels, and their questionable attire, which is definitely not intended as street wear, and for damn sure shouldn’t be legal.
“This way, ladies.” He herds them over before leaning into me. “It’s for the Exotic Room. Unlike some people, I don’t charge a house fee. They keep every dime they make. It’s win-win all the way around.”
“Exotic Room?” It gulps from me like the civil offense it’s panning out to be. Shit. Something tells me everything about this place is going to be replete with illegal escapades in less than ten minutes. “We are all so going to fry!”
“Relax.” Morgan rubs my shoulders and peppers the side of my face with kisses. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got it all handled.”
Every muscle in my body freezes when he says those words. I swear he just repeated verbatim the exact words Rory whispered the last fated night of his freedom.
“Handled?” I cock my head, expecting a full explanation.
“I promise you we’re not breaking the law.” His lips press into a line. “We might be skirting it—but trust me, it’s not a big deal.”
Skirting?
“This is temporary,” he continues. “It’s not like we’re setting up shop for years. Let me get these ladies settled, and I’ll be back.” He dots my lips with a kiss before speeding the small harem down the hall.
Shit, shit, shit!
Lauren strides over with a spring in her step. “This is freaking fantastic!”
“You think?” I pan the vicinity, half-afraid I’ll spot ten different felonies in the making. I’m pretty sure Ruby won’t be allowed to visit me in the big house, where I will be sporting an orange jumpsuit—two fashion blunders that are a punishment unto themselves.
“Loosen up, would you?” Her overglossed lips widen into a cherry-stained grin. “Cal says you’ve already raked in two grand. If they keep coming in like this you’re looking at a small fortune. He’s just pissed he didn’t think of it.”
“Two grand? I didn’t hear a thing after that but who the hell cares, because two freaking grand!”
A pair of arms circle my waist, and a warm kiss heats my neck. I turn to find Morgan wearing his deliciously wicked grin, sans the bevy of strippers he’s solicited for the night.
“I’ll be in the middle of a winning poker hand if you need me,” he growls hot and sexy into my ear.
“Poker?” My stomach explodes in a vat of acid. The felonies are quickly piling up to the ceiling, and I’ve moved well past wondering if we’ll be detained by law enforcement to when. “Good luck?” I don’t know whether to be ticked or proud that he’s thrown in some illegal gambling for good measure. If we’re going down it might as well be in a brilliant shock of flames. “If you win big I’ll reward you.” I crush my lips against his and plunge my tongue into his mouth like an assurance of things to come, hopefully me.
“I’ve already won big. I’ve got you, don’t I?” Morgan dots my lips with a kiss before melting back into the crowd.
“Well, hello?” Lauren teases. “Things are really heating up between the two of you.” Her demeanor changes on a dime and suddenly she looks horrified. “Don’t fall too far, too fast. He’s Oregon-bound in just a couple of weeks. Remember?”
Crap. I do remember. I was just doing an excellent job of pushing it to the back of my mind.
That horrible feeling of foreboding takes over once again, and my heart plummets through the floor, straight to middle earth. I hate the thought of Morgan taking off for greener scholastic pastures sooner than later.
“Right.” I try to shake it off. “We’re just messing around. Nothing too serious.”
Stupid, stupid Oregon for being on the other side of the fucking country. Maybe we’ll have one of those long-distance relationships? We can Skype and everything. Or maybe I can move to Oregon? But that’s too far from Ruby. Stupid Massachusetts for being so damn far from the West Coast.
Then, quick as a blade, reality sets in. A god like Morgan Jordan needs a warm body next to his at night, or at least he deserves it, and I won’t be anywhere near the vicinity.
“Oh, no.” Lauren looks like she’s about to be sick. “Ally!” She doesn’t bother to hide the fact she’s über disappointed in me and my man-lust for all things Morgan.
Kendall steps up, looking like a knockout with her long, dark tresses perfectly framing her face and her blue eyes shining bright as her brother’s. My insides pinch. Once Morgan leaves I’ll have a hard time being near Kendall in general.
“What’s going on?” Kendall looks to Lauren for answers.
“She’s fallen in love with your brother, and now she’s contemplating whether or not a long-distance relationship will ever work out.”
“You always know what I’m thinking.” I mean for it to come out far more sarcastic than it does.
“I can read your mind,” she assures. “Besides, the answer is no. Long-distance relationships never work out. Look at me and Cal. He started to get wishy-washy once he graduated, and he was less than a few blocks away. Face it, men need leashes, and they don’t make them that long.”
Shit. Lauren is always right. I seriously hate that about her.
“Do you really feel that way about Morgy?” Kendall touches her chest as if I’ve delivered a lethal blow.
“Yes.” My eyes widen with panic because for one, I haven’t shared this little tidbit with “Morgy” yet. “I’m in love with him. There, I said it. But it’s totally your fault.” I drill a finger in Kendall’s pillowy chest. “You practically pushed us together. You knew he couldn’t sleep on the couch. That could have ruined his entire baseball career.” I chew on the inside of my cheek in the event other ludicrous theories on how Morgan Jordan’s penis happened to find its way into my vagina decide to pop out.
“He is gorgeous.” Lauren shrugs, as if consoling me on some level.
“And he’s generous to a fault,” Kendall adds.
“Is he good in bed?” Lauren is ready and willing to get the sexual lowdown right here in front of four hundred of our closest friends.
“We are so not going there.” Kendall slaps her hands over her ears to avert the sibling-based trauma.
“Oh, look,” Lauren says, giving Kendall a shove into the crowd. “I think I see Cruise, and he’s got a new toy just for you! It buzzes, and vibrates, and glows in the dark, oh my!”
Lucky for Kendall that Cruise—the Wizard of Ahhs—is there, albeit sans the sex toy.
With Kendall out of the way, Lauren digs in. “Dish!” Her eyes get all wide and swirly like a pair of pinwheels at the prospect of titillating details. “Did he help you solve your problem?” She drags out the word problem like it’s code for something, and we both know it is.
I sigh and my entire body sags at the thought of even verbalizing my sexual faux pas.
“He didn’t?” She shrieks over the music. “Are you sure? Have you seen him? My underwear melt each time he walks in the room. Geez, Ally, you have some serious issues.”
I open my mouth to let her know I’m just about ready to resolve them once and for all when I spot Molly and Blair by the entrance.
“What are they doing here?”
“Who cares?” Lauren says, maneuvering me toward the bar. “T
hey just gave you forty bucks.”
“Maybe I can turn around and hire a hit on Blair with the money.”
“She’s not in your league, Ally. Morgan is all yours. Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. If I didn’t know better I’d swear that boy was in love.”
Morgan, in love? With me?
A fire spreads through my body at the thought of Morgan feeling that way.
This is huge. If he feels for me anything close to what I’m starting to feel for him—what I’ve felt for him, deep down inside, right from the beginning—then we could have something spectacular in store for the two of us.
Too bad fall semester is breathing down our necks. Too bad Oregon is about as far away as you can get from Massachusetts in this country.
Damn it all to hell, why did I have to fall so hard, so fast?
Morgan
Eight fucking thousand dollars—profit,” I say while driving Ally to the most extravagant hotel Carrington has to offer, and for damn sure it’s not at the Elton House wade-through-your-own-shit-because-I-can’t-fix-the-plumbing Bed and Breakfast. Nope. This place is about as far away from Calamity Cruise as you can get. I checked it out on the Internet before reserving the room this afternoon—a honeymoon suite that overlooks the water.
“Eight grand?” Ally grips her throat like she might choke herself to death. “And what are we doing here?” She leans out the window, and takes in the elegant building lit up like a woman in a glittering dress.
“We can do anything we like.” Considering it’s three-thirty in the morning, I’m betting sleep is a high probability, but my dick is amped and severely hopeful that it too can find a nice warm place to stay. “Remember, the money got split with Cal. But we still got forty-eight hundred and he took thirty-two. Twenty-four hundred for each of us, sound good?”
“Sounds too good.” She licks her lips like a promise as we get out of the truck.
It’s cool out, unnaturally quiet here compared to the riot streaming out of control back at the club. The place looked like shit when we left, and the liquor sold out an hour before closing. Those alone are pretty good signs of things to come, but for now the only thing I want to come is Ally.