He held out the package to her, and Morgan took it with dread boiling in her stomach. She knew that handwriting.Dear God, how had he found her here? And so quickly?No!Hands shaking, breath short, she opened the envelope and extracted the contents. As she did, red rose petals with moist centers and dead edges fluttered downward, skittering across the blond hardwood floor. They looked faintly like fat drops of blood splattered all around her.Morgan gasped. He knew she was here. How had he found her?Then her gaze fell to the photos. Pictures of her, one arriving at LAX the day she’d fled to Houston. The next of her in Brandon’s backyard wearing thin sweatpants and a tank top with nipples teased hard by a cool morning breeze. The last a photo of her in her sage silk-and-lace shift with matching robe, kissing Brandon’s cheek as they stood in the driveway before he left for work. Just this morning.Fear biting at her belly, Morgan didn’t protest when Brandon grabbed the photos from her
“And Dominance and submission.”Morgan swallowed. She’d been caught up in enthusiasm for her show and almost forgotten they were going to discuss that topic. The topic that fueled her shameful late-night fantasies.“Yes.”He quirked a dark brow at her expectantly, somehow managing to look sharp, displeased, and nonthreatening all at once.Puzzled, Morgan stared. What did he want?“Yes, sir,” she ventured.His smile dazzled, rewarded. “Very nice.”“I thought such forms of address were reserved for one’s...”“Submissive? Frequently, but you contacted me for a quick lesson or two. I thought it best to start with a hint of the dynamic and see how you do with it.” He leaned forward, an elbow braced on the table. His gaze poured directly into her, molten and unrelenting. “Do you understand what it means to submit to a man? Completely surrender?”Morgan tried to suck in a breath, stunned to find it ragged beyond her control. His eyes flared hot with approval.“T—this isn’t about me,” she arg
“A shooter? Holy. . . Who have you pissed off now?”“Alyssa, this is Morgan,” he shouted over the music. “She’s the hostess of a cable TV show—”“You’re Morgan O’Malley! I love Turn Me On!”Morgan, who had doffed her sunglasses, extended her hand to Alyssa. Hmm. Blue eyes rimmed in red, a smattering of freckles, very fair skin—not Brandon’s usual type. But times changed, he supposed.Jack drawled, “Then I’m assuming you’d like to help me keep her alive long enough to do more shows. The shooter was aiming at her.” Jack turned to the other woman. “Morgan, this is Alyssa Devereaux, owner of Sexy Sirens. The most famous—or infamous—gentleman’s club in southern Louisiana, depending on your point of view.”Brandon’s little woman flashed a weak smile, trying her damndest not to stare at Alyssa’s inch-thick makeup, near indecent skirt, and fuck-me boots. There was nothing subtle about Alyssa. She still dressed like a stripper, though she hadn’t danced around a pole in years. She sucked a cock
Finally, she and Alyssa reached the top of the landing. The blonde led her through the door at the end of the hall, into a small but surprising luxurious suite.Alyssa shut the door behind them, blocking out the loudest of the music’s throb. The floor beneath them still shook. The sexy tempo resonated around her, stark in its suggestion.Morgan looked around the room. A large, rumpled bed lazed in the center, as a standing lamp cast muted golden light over the white sheets. Hardwood floors gleamed cherry beneath her feet. Soft beige walls accented flowing white sheers at the large window. Four black-and-white landscape photographs formed a grouping above the bed.“You were expecting a red bedroom with a stripper pole in the middle?” Alyssa asked with a cocked brow.Embarrassment stung Morgan. She had wondered… “I had no idea what to expect. This is lovely.”Some of the starch bled out of Alyssa. “It’s peaceful. C’mon, let’s get you out of that ugly rag.”Before she could ask for priva
“This isn’t a game. It’s my life!”“Exactly,” he growled into her ear. “Locals, not necessarily the trustworthy ones, will be out there tonight, seeing me with a woman they think is Alyssa. If you’re gasping and fighting and pushing every time I put a hand on you, they’ll know you’re an imposter. And if the man chasing you offers them money for information about a suspicious female…you’ll be an easy target to spot.”And an easy one to kill. Jack didn’t say it, but he thought it. Just as Morgan did.“Couldn’t I leave here as a bag lady or a nun or something?”“Your gun-toting friend is going to be waiting, watching. Don’t you think the emergence of a nun from a strip club would send up a few red flags?”He was right, damn it. She had to get a grip. If dressing like a stripper and letting a good-looking guy fondle her for a few minutes was all it took to keep her safe, she’d survive the embarrassment and the blow to her modesty.There was just one problem: She reacted to Jack not like a
Last, if Morgan was Brandon Ross’s fiancée, she’d be wasted on the boring, uptight bastard. Brandon would ignore the needs he didn’t understand and couldn’t fulfill, fantasies Jack would bet his eyeteeth she had. Satisfying her fantasies required someone with more balls, tenderness, and self-control than Brandon ever thought of possessing. He almost felt sorry for Morgan. In fact, he might be doing her a favor in the long run…But pity wasn’t going to stop him from getting his overdue revenge against the asshole who’d fucked up his life.First, though, he had to get Morgan out of the club alive.As they hit the door at the back of the dark strip joint, he dragged her through a curtain that led to a backstage area. Abruptly, the pounding music stopped and wild clapping began. A slender brunette with large artificial breasts wriggled her hips at the crowd of men shoving bills in her miniscule G-string. Morgan stared, clearly uncomfortable with that much nudity and touching with complete
Crushing his delight at her lush response, Jack promised himself there would be plenty of time later to fuck her, screw Brandon out of a bride, and enjoy every moment of her soft, shy responses. Later.Ending the kiss with a nip of his teeth on her plush lower lip, Jack opened his eyes in time to see the slick in the suit talking to some of the regulars around him. Jack made sure he blocked Morgan from the view of guys who hung out here at least once a week. He hoped like hell none of them would remember that they’d never seen him kiss Alyssa like that.Mr. Suit listened, then nodded his thanks. Disappointment shadowed his face. The guy in the jeans and sweater had disappeared.“I think we’re good to go,” he murmured to Morgan. “Let’s get out of here.”Again, he took her hand. He led her right out the front door. The crowd on the street swallowed them up quickly, and Jack smiled.Once the danger had passed, once he knew they hadn’t been followed, he could concentrate on Morgan—and eve
She didn’t doubt he could make a woman beg for anything, everything. If she wasn’t careful, didn’t keep her distance, she could quickly become another notch on his bedpost. Worse, he could open her psyche and expose all the hidden fantasies better left to the dark corners of her mind.Time for a change of subject. “Thank you for getting me out of Lafayette. I would have panicked and run when the bullets started flying. On my own, I would never have been able to concoct this disguise and…distract him.”“That’s my job, Morgan.”“You didn’t have to do it.” Then, recalling the way his hands roamed her body in Alyssa’s bedroom, she shot him a suspicious look. “In fact, I think you did more than your job required.”“Think what you want.” Jack’s smile told Morgan that her assertion amused him.“I usually do.” She gritted her teeth, wishing she knew how to wipe that smile off his face. “Where are we going?”“I’ve got a place. It’s safe. We can hide you there until we figure something out.”Th