A Man Like Morgan Kane (17 page)

As soon as the coffee brewed, she poured herself a cup. The first cup of the morning, strong and hot, but laced liberally with sweetener and low-fat creamer. A throbbing little ache pulsed in the right side of her head. A queasy unease rumbled in her stomach. She sipped the tan brew, allowing it to trickle slowly down her throat.

How long would it be before Morgan came downstairs? How many minutes did she have until she'd have to face him? Despite sixteen years apart, they still knew each other too well to pretend. Neither of them had gotten much sleep. Morgan had been as restless with unfulfilled need as she had been. And nothing had changed with the passing of time. After nearly two decades, she still wanted him with the same mindless passion she had when she'd been a girl. And even now she was as vulnerable to his masculine allure as she'd been last night. If he came downstairs and took her into his arms, if he kissed her, if he touched her, would she have the strength to reject him again?

Sipping her coffee, she reached over and turned on the small portable television on the built-in desk in the corner. She left the sound off. No need to disturb the sweet silence until the commercial ended. She'd catch the morning weather and traffic reports before she went outside for the newspaper.

After the commercial break, Tony Hayes's smiling face appeared on the television screen. Damn! She had the TV on the wrong station. She never watched Wake Up Birmingham. Clicking the sound button on the remote control, she started to press the channel changer, but stopped suddenly when she heard Tony's heartfelt plea.

"Friends, I know you are as upset as I am that Jimmy Farraday was murdered, in cold blood, right here at WHNB." Tony's mouth broadened into a big smile. He sighed. "Never has a finer man walked the face of this earth. No one misses him as much as I do. He was my dearest friend. My mentor." Sighing again, Tony sobered and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

Bethany's thumb hovered over the channel button.

"Jimmy's accused murderess is free to walk the streets, to fill people's heads with her lies about a good man. I know this woman and cannot imagine what has possessed her." Tony's face reddened as he bounced around the stage like a hell-fire and brimstone preacher. "There's nothing sadder than a good woman gone bad. Nothing more tragic than for a man's daughter to turn against him.

"I'm pleading with those of you who loved Jimmy as I did, to demand justice. Swift, sure justice!"

Had Tony been spouting off this slanderous condemnation of her ever since he'd come on the air at five-thirty? she wondered. How many of Jimmy's loyal fans had he stirred to vengeance? Surely he couldn't go on television and defame her this way. She knew that ever since she'd refused to go out with him again, after two dates four years ago, Tony had treated her coolly, but she'd never dreamed he would be so vindictive. Had he truly loved Jimmy that much? And did he really believe she killed her
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stepfather?

With trembling fingers,Bethanypushed the Power button, turned off the television and tossed the remote onto the table. She didn't have to listen to any more of this drivel. If Tony Hayes thought he could malign her on local television, he'd better think again. She'd call Maxine and find out if she had grounds to sue.

After setting her coffee cup aside, she unarmed the security alarm, turned on the outside floodlights and exited through the side door leading to the breezeway between the house and the garage. Breathing in the fresh, cool air that reminded her that autumn was only three weeks away, she scanned the driveway for the paper. Catching a glimpse of the plastic-wrapped roll, she grimaced. Plastic covering on the morning paper was a sure indication that rain was predicted for that day.

When she stepped off the breezeway and onto the driveway, she heard an approaching vehicle. The loud clatter-clanking of a large truck echoed through the stillness of the peacefulForest Parkcommunity. It wasn't garbage pickup day and no one who lived in this area drove a commercial vehicle. Just as she leaned over to pick up the Birmingham News, a dump truck backed into her drive. Her heartbeat accelerated. Foreboding swirled in the depths of her stomach.Bethanyblinked a couple of times, unable to believe her own eyes when the truck bed rose into the air and dumped its load onto her lawn. The stench of fresh manure filled the air, sickeningBethanyinstantly. Grabbing the paper in one hand, she stood up straight and covered her mouth and nose with her other hand.

She ran toward the truck, yelling at the top of her lungs. "Who sent you here? Who hired you to empty a load of manure on my lawn?"

Just as she reached the side of the truck, the driver rolled down the window, stuck out his head and spat a stream of brown tobacco juice towardBethany. The spittle landed on her shoe. Crinkling her nose in disgust, she groaned and stepped backward.

"This here's a little present from Jimmy Farraday's friends,"the burly red-haired man said.

"You cannot leave this here! Do you hear me? I'll call thepolice!"

The man laughed, the robust sound sending shivers alongBethany's spine. "You'd just better be glad that I didn't bury you alive in this stuff. It's what you deserve."

WhenBethanyreached out, intending to pound her fists against the truck door, Morgan grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands over her head. Gasping, she struggled against him momentarily, then relaxed when he walked her backward, away from the truck. He jerked the newspaper out of her clutched hand.

"You scared me to death," she told Morgan.

"Heard you had you a bodyguard," the man said. "Good thing. Somebody's liable to fill you full of lead the way you did Jimmy."

"I suggest you leave." Morgan glared at the truck driver, a deadly glint in his eye. "You've done what you came here to do."

"You're going to let him get away with this … this…"Bethanyspluttered furiously. "Just look at my beautiful lawn. And the smell is horrible … sickening, and—"

"I've already called the police and given them the license plate number on this truck." Morgan glanced up
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at the driver, whose smile suddenly vanished. Manacling her around the waist, Morgan lifted her off her feet. "We'll get someone in here today to clean up this mess," he told her as she squirmed in his arms. "In the meantime, let's just leave our morning visitor to the police."

Bethanyfought against Morgan's tenacious hold. "Let me go! If you're not going to do something, I am!

I'm not letting that stupid redneck get away with this."

Hoisting her under his arm, Morgan carried a wriggling, huffingBethanyup the drive and onto the breezeway. The truck pulled out of the drive and chugged its way down the street. When Morgan set Bethanyon her feet, she turned on him, her hazel eyes blazing. Planting her hands on her hips, she gritted her teeth.

"Why didn't you do something?" she demanded.

"I called the police," he said. "What else do you think I should have done?"

His question stumped her momentarily. "I don't know. Dragged him out of the truck and beat him to a pulp, I suppose."

"As angry as you are, I think you could have done that yourself, without any help from me."

Admitting to herself that she might have overreacted just a bit, she sighed loudly, then glanced down at her dirty shoe, stained by tobacco juice spittle. "He spit on my shoe. That deserved a punch in the nose."

Morgan handedBethanytheBirminghamNews."Here's your paper." Bending down on one knee, he grasped her ankle, lifted her foot and removed her nasty shoe. His big fingers lightly caressed her instep.

She shivered. He removed her other shoe, then hooked two fingers into the back of the narrow heels.

"The shoe can be cleaned. Most of the manure can be removed from the yard and the rest can be scattered for fertilizer."

"You think I overreacted, don't you?" She opened the door to the kitchen.

"I think you have every right to be upset, even angry." Morgan followed her into the house. "But yes, considering that one attempt has already been made on your life, I do think you might have overreacted to a minor irritation. The way I see it, Farraday's fans harassing you is a secondary concern. It's something I can handle."

"Well, I'm so glad you can handle it!" She stomped across the floor in her stocking feet.

He closed and locked the door behind him, then set her dirty shoes in the corner. "Harassment is something you can deal with. I'm not nearly as upset over the fact that some idiot thought he was making a statement by dumping manure in your yard as I am the fact that you went outside this house, alone, in the dark." He grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around to face him. His steel-blue eyes bored into her. "I don't want you to ever go outside this house without me. Do you understand? Not ever again."

His words were tinged with anger and fear, and she suddenly realized how foolish she'd been to venture into her own front yard without her bodyguard. Morgan was right. Harassment was a minor irritation.

Manure could be cleared away; spittle could be washed off. But what if the person who'd sent her the mail bomb had been waiting outside for her instead of some stupid but harmless, loudmouthed fan of Jimmy's? She could be dead now.

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Shuddering at the thought, she gazed up into Morgan's concerned face and said. "I'm sorry. You're right.

I wasn't thinking."

Releasing his hold on her shoulder, he walked around her and went over to the coffee machine. "It wasn't all your fault," he told her. "No, you shouldn't have gone outside, but then you aren't accustomed to having a bodyguard. I was as much at fault as you. Maybe more. When I heard you come downstairs, I should have followed you immediately, instead of giving you some time alone."

"It wasn't your fault. How could you have known I'd go outside?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would have followed you immediately and stayed at your side. But I let my personal feelings interfere with doing my job." He removed a mug from the cabinet, filled it with coffee and set the mug on the table. "I should have known that I couldn't be objective when it came to you, and I should have foreseen what happened between us last night."

"Nothing happened."

"Who are you lying to, Beth, yourself or me?"

"All right, so something did happen. But nothing we couldn't handle."

When she neared the table, he reached up and grabbed her wrist. She hesitated, then glanced down at him.

"Can we handle it?" he asked. "Can I give you the best protection possible when all I can think about is making love to you?"

She jerked her wrist free, then quickly picked up her coffee cup and refilled it. "Are you considering quitting this job and turning it over to someone else?"

"That would be the smart thing to do, wouldn't it? But then I've never done the smart thing when it came to you, have I?"

"So, what are you trying to tell me?" Cradling her cup in both hands, she brought it to her lips.

"I let you come downstairs alone this morning because I thought you probably dreaded facing me again as much as I dreaded facing you. We know what nearly happened last night, what I wanted to happen.

And I know you didn't sleep any better than I did. You tossed and turned all night wishing you were lying in my arms."

She opened her mouth to protest, but his warning glare silenced her.

"I'm not leaving, Beth. I'm staying until we find out who really killed Farraday. You might be safer with someone else, but I can't hand you over to another man. Not ever again."

Silence hung between them like a soundless, elegiac message, an unspoken, heartbreaking memory.

Their gazes locked for endless moments, thenBethanyturned abruptly.

She set her coffee cup on the counter, walked across the room and lifted her dirty shoes off the floor.

"I'm going to take these upstairs and clean them. I'll be back down in a few minutes."

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She had to escape, had to get away from his declaration of guilt. "I can't hand you over to another man.

Not ever again." He knew, damn him! He knew that leaving her sixteen years ago had been tantamount to giving her to Amery. Had he known, even then, what would happen to her when he leftBirminghamand then left, anyway?

* * *

Bethanystayed in her room long after she'd cleaned her shoe. She didn't want to go back downstairs and face Morgan, even though she knew that sooner or later she'd have no choice. Had she made a mistake allowing him to become her bodyguard, letting him move into her home and live with Anne Marie and her? She had thought she could deal with whatever attraction she still felt for him, thought she was strong enough to withstand any emotional assault his presence might cause. But she'd been wrong. She could no more control her desire for Morgan now than she'd been able to in the past.

She reminded herself of the reason she had opened her home to him, why she wanted and needed him to become a part of her life. A part of Anne Marie's life. She hoped that on some level Morgan and Anne Marie would bond. If the worst happened and she was sent to prison for Jimmy's murder, then she would have to tell Morgan that he was Anne Marie's father. By that time, she prayed that he'd care too much for their child to turn his back on her.

She gasped when she heard a knock on her door. Turning quickly, she instinctively took a step backward when Morgan opened the door and walked into her bedroom.

"I just got a call." He held up his cellular phone. Lines wrinkled his normally smooth brow.

"What's wrong?" Her stomach quivered.

"Maxine called. Judge Harper has set a date for your grand jury hearing."