“Where?”
“The Celtic Goddess. It’s about twenty minutes out. Good food, good wine. I think you’ll like it.”
The shift was immediate. Her face went carefully neutral. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll be happy to cook for you.”
“What’s wrong with the Goddess?”
“Nothing. It’s just too much.”
“It’s really not.”
“I don’t have anything to wear to a place like that.”
“Believe it or not, we actually have stores in Pine Ridge.”
“Smart ass,” she mumbled.
“Come on, Morgan. This—” he waved his hand over the screens “—is cause for celebration.”
“Can’t we just order a pizza and you tell me now?”
He grinned. “No, sorry. And you already said yes. No backing out now.”
She snapped her mouth shut. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t entirelysure how it happened—or rather, he was entirely sure how it happened and simply didn’t feel the need to analyze it. One moment they were verbally sparring in his office. The next, they were naked in his bed, confirming that the chemistry between them was every bit as explosive as it had been the other night.
The sky had turned a deep indigo by the time she gathered herself to leave, moving through the room with quiet efficiency, finding her things, putting herself back together.
He watched her like a predator watches prey, resisting the urge to pull her apart again.
“Déjà vu,” she said, without looking at him, a trace of dry amusement in her voice.
“You don’t have to leave,” he said, lifting up the covers in invitation.
Her eyes raked over the length of his body, desire warring with something else in her eyes. A misplaced sense of propriety, maybe?
“I do.”
Those two words rang through his head like fine crystal. He pushed himself to his feet before he said—or did—something rash. Pulling on jeans and a long-sleeved tee, he walked her downstairs and out to her car.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
“I can just meet you there.”
“Morgan,” he said, waiting until he had her complete attention. She might have gone out with assholes before, but that ended now. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Her eyes flashed at the firmness of his tone, then heated into something molten. Did Morgan like the idea of someone else taking charge? Of not having to be the one in control all the time? He filed that away to explore later.
“I’ll be ready.”
37
THE ONE
MORGAN