Naughty By Nature. Jule McBride
this way? Was he rejecting her because he was an employee?
“I’d better get to work,” Lucy said chirpily, embarrassed pink spots splotching her cheeks. “You two need some alone time.” You two. She’d said it as in you two lovebirds, which only worsened an already delicate situation.
“Alone time?” Morgan echoed in his most professional, discreet, Secret Service voice. “With Ms. Verne?”
“Vanessa,” she emphasized.
With images from their past night of alone time still in her mind, Vanessa forced herself to scoot from the bed Morgan’s mouthwatering body had left so warm. Flattening the covers to her chest, she started toward Lucy and Morgan, hoping to straighten things out. Unfortunately, her foot tangled in the dragging tail of the sheet, and as she lurched Morgan edged backward, his gorgeous body retracting like a crab into its shell instead of lunging to catch her.
“Some Secret Service agent,” she huffed.
“Sorry, Ms. Verne,” he said stoically as she regained her balance. It was as if the man couldn’t get out of this bedroom and away from her fast enough. A man, she tried not to remind herself, whom she’d been trying to get into bed for weeks.
“Don’t worry—” her gaze locked into his, and she wondered how much longer she could bear this humiliation “—I realize you’re not on duty right now. So, why should you save me from tripping?”
“You didn’t trip.”
“Not this time,” she returned darkly. “But it’s not like I was going to bite you. I promise, Mr. Fine.”
“Morgan,” he corrected, his mouth quirking in something resembling a smile. “Under the circumstances.”
“Morgan,” she repeated.
And then he raised a thick eyebrow as if to say, You did bite last night—which, of course, Vanessa had. Drawing a calming breath and hoping he wouldn’t guess at her mortification, she tried to ignore the stubbled jaw she’d nibbled and the slightly curved lips she’d caught between her teeth. The next thing she knew, she was recalling other, more private places she’d found tasty.
She couldn’t believe it. She’d never even had oral sex with Hans Breakman—and she’d almost married him. Another voice followed in the wake of that thought. Morgan thought I was Lucy! What am I going to do now?
You’ll think of something. She was Senator’s Verne’s daughter, after all. Sure, she’d been a party animal, at least according to the tabloids. And sure, she’d been booted from three colleges without graduating, but she’d learned social skills along the way. Still…what were you supposed to do when you’d slept with somebody who’d only slept with you because he thought you were somebody else?
At a loss, Vanessa wrapped a steadying hand around Lucy’s unengaged arm, the one Morgan wasn’t gripping. Vaguely, she realized her heart was beating dangerously fast and that she and Morgan were each holding Lucy’s dangling limbs as if intending to tear her into two even pieces.
Lucy read her mind. “Am I being drawn and quartered?”
“No,” Vanessa said, surprised at how absurdly stern her usually well-modulated voice sounded. “But Morgan’s right, Lucy. You’re not going anywhere. Not until we, uh, figure this out.”
Lucy looked uncertain. “What’s to figure out?”
Lucy had a point. Vanessa and Morgan had enjoyed amazing sex, but the whole time, Morgan thought Vanessa was Lucy. “Right.” Vanessa could barely find her voice. “This is a pretty clear-cut case.”
“Case?” murmured Morgan. “Of what?”
Mistaken sex, Vanessa thought, but didn’t say it.
Very slowly, Lucy was tearing her eyes from Morgan’s bare, hairy chest and staring where Vanessa’s fingers were digging into her upper arm. “What?” she said indignantly. “Are you pulling rank on me, Vanessa? Because if you are—”
“Oh, please,” Vanessa interjected, tamping down her temper and piercing Lucy with a long, level stare. “Give me some credit.” This was no time to argue with her best friend. Couldn’t Lucy see they were in a jam? One for which they were equally responsible? Trying to disguise her pleading tone, she added, “I just think it’s best if you wait while Morgan gets dressed.”
“Best for whom?” challenged Lucy, speaking as if Morgan wasn’t even there. “I don’t want to…watch.”
“Fine by me,” agreed Morgan, shaking his head as if to say he couldn’t believe their situation. “Why don’t you both keep your eyes shut?” Abruptly releasing Lucy, he strode around the room. Under the circumstances, Vanessa didn’t blame him for being upset, but she still thought he looked magnificent as he retrieved his clothes.
“I have to go downstairs,” Lucy argued in a faint whisper, keeping her eyes trained on a far wall. Vanessa didn’t bother with modesty, but remained studiously absorbed with Morgan as he searched for his briefs in the remaining bedcovers. Chippendale men had nothing on Morgan Fine.
“Your dad’s in the kitchen,” Lucy continued urgently. “Apparently Mrs. Bell called in sick, so the senator’s down there, making Pop ’n’ Serve biscuits—”
Vanessa’s knees were nearly buckling from the exemplary view of Morgan’s honed male physique. Still using her grip on Lucy to support her body weight, she managed to speak in a breathless-sounding voice. “I know. Daddy called up here last night, to say Mrs. Bell wouldn’t be coming to work.”
“If we don’t get your father out of the kitchen,” Lucy insisted, “you two are trapped up here. He’s going to see Morgan leave or realize you slept here. Have you gone crazy, Ness? You know how your father feels about—”
“Premarital sex?” Vanessa asked.
“He doesn’t even approve of postmarital sex.” Lucy huffed.
So true. This was hardly the first time the women, both staunch Democrats, had wished the retired senator was something other than a family-values Republican. Ellery Verne had gone to great lengths to separate Lucy from her boyfriend, Bjorn, and Vanessa from any living, breathing male. “He can’t find out about this,” Vanessa acknowledged slowly, still unable to tear her gaze from Morgan or release her hold on her friend. “But it’ll be okay,” she added. “Right? I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve been in a jam.”
“I never would have guessed.” Morgan tossed the words dryly over his shoulder, his voice calm and too controlled.
“Not this kind of a jam,” Vanessa assured him, feeling a need to defend herself at his tone. “It’s not as if I sleep with every cute Secret Service agent who works here.”
The man didn’t even pick up on the hint, grin and say, “Do you really think I’m cute?” Instead, in a disbelieving voice, he said, “Really?” He’d stepped over the trail of condom packages and into his briefs, and she watched as he upended the overturned wastebasket, scrounged inside it and lifted out a cell phone and rumpled shirt.
“Lucy’s mother worked here since before I was born.” Vanessa found herself explaining as she watched him shrug into the shirt. “She was a single mother, so my father was naturally protective of her and Lucy, who’s three months older than me. Anyway, Mrs. Giangarfalo recently moved to Arizona, where she’s pursuing a career in real estate, but Lucy and I have always been best friends. We don’t get into trouble, not really, but we did grow up together, in the same house, and so naturally—”
Suddenly aware she was rambling like an idiot, she lost her voice. Morgan’s fingers had stilled on a buttonhole, forcing her to remember how she’d lustily grasped the shirttails and tugged, ripping off his shirt. Had she really done that? Yes, she realized. The evidence, a trail of small white buttons, gleamed in the red carpet. As she stared at them, tactile memories of smooth pectorals and the tangled hair between