A Match for Morgan Read online

  Listening to the emotion in her voice, emotion he had a feeling she had no idea was evident, he saw Morgan in a completely different light. A kernel of admiration put out roots.

  “Where is Josh now?”

  “In a foster home.” She’d worked very hard to screen couples and find him parents who could offer exactly the kind of love Josh needed. It had been far from easy. “They’re trying each other on for size.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, realizing what she’d said and how quick he usually was on the uptake. “Leave that line alone,” she ordered.

  Wyatt smiled amiably, his hands raised in surrender. “Wouldn’t touch it.” He was more interested in hearing her story than in teasing her. “Why don’t you adopt him?”

  “Me?” She looked at him in surprise. Had he guessed how she felt about Josh? No, that was far too intuitive for Wyatt.

  And yet why else would he suggest that?

  “You.” He looked at the photograph again before looking down at her. He tried to picture her as a mother and discovered the image was far easier to buy into than he’d thought. The boy even looked a little like her, he mused. “You obviously care about him.”

  Yes, she did. A great deal. But there were extenuating circumstances. “He’s a case.” Her voice was crisp, detached. Dismissive.

  He wasn’t buying it. Why was it so hard for her to admit that she cared? “I don’t see any other photographs of other kids. He can’t be the only case you have.”

  She sighed. “I can’t adopt him, because in case you haven’t noticed, Sherlock, I’m not married. In addition, I’m hardly ever home.” She couldn’t provide the kind of home life that Josh needed, no matter how much she cared about the boy.

  “Out partying?”

  She knew he was baiting her. “Working. I work hard at my job, Wyatt.” She sniffed, looking down her nose at him. “Unlike some.”

  He worked hard at what he did. He wouldn’t have been the VP of the Computer Programming Division at Tech Corporation if he didn’t. But he saw no reason to get into a discussion over it. He would only sound as if he was being defensive. Wyatt picked up the photograph again. “He’s a cute boy. How old is he?” He glanced at Morgan. “Four?”

  She was surprised that he was right. Most men had trouble guessing correctly. “Right on the money.”

  His own son would have been four, he thought. Had he survived. Wyatt quietly returned the photograph to its place.

  There was something strange about his expression, Morgan noticed, as if Wyatt was somewhere else, thinking. That wasn’t like him.

  “What?” she prodded, thinking she’d probably regret asking.

  Wyatt looked at her innocently, a quizzical look on his face.

  She supposed it was her curse to be so curious. “Something about Josh’s photograph triggered something in your mind,” Morgan insisted. “What?”

  No one knew about the child he’d almost had, or his reasons for marrying Judith to begin with. Now wasn’t the time to go into it. He shrugged, a glib smile taking over. “I just never knew there was this softer side to you, that’s all.”

  Was that a compliment? She doubted it. “Lot about me you don’t know.”

  “Apparently.” Wyatt glanced at his watch. He was going to have to be getting back within an hour if he was to make his three-o’clock meeting. That gave him a little more than an hour to spend with Morgan. “So, are you up for it?”

  Wariness slipped in. She never knew just how to take what Wyatt said. “Up for what?”

  Obviously the woman didn’t listen. “Lunch.”

  She glanced at her desk. The work, she knew, would keep. It always did. And she had to admit she was curious about his reasons for seeking her out. She and Wyatt had never socialized—other than at the weddings, she thought ruefully.

  “Are you buying?”

  He was still old-fashioned that way, but he was surprised that she was. She was right, there was a lot about her he didn’t know. And what he had learned had set him on his ear.

  Wyatt inclined his head. “As long as it doesn’t offend your sense of independence.”

  Morgan took her purse out of the last drawer and closed it again as she rose to her feet. She slung the purse over her shoulder. “My independence’ll survive anything you have to offer.”

  And the match was on, he thought. He had to admit that in some ways he did enjoy this sparring between them. He held the door open for her.

  “Nice to know.”

  “So what’s this all about, Wyatt?” She’d toyed with her diet soda, eaten breadsticks and waited, but Wyatt hadn’t said a word about what he was actually doing here. “You’ve never appeared out of the blue to have lunch with me before.”

  “True enough,” he agreed. Their small talk had lasted all of five minutes, and he had to admit that he’d enjoyed it. She could be pleasant when she wanted to be. “I just wanted to know where we stood.”

  In her mind that was already settled the only way it could be. “On very firm ground—and far apart from each other.”

  It bothered him a little that she seemed so detached. “Then last Saturday—”

  She raised her eyes from the breadstick she was breaking apart bit by bit and looked at him pointedly. “Was last Saturday. It has nothing to do with the rest of our lives.”

  On closer scrutiny he realized she wasn’t quite as unflappable as she was trying to appear. “Are you so sure?”

  “Yes, I’m so sure.” Damn him, why did he have to push? Did he want her to bare her soul to him so that he could smugly walk away again? “Wyatt, I don’t even like you.”

  She’d just pushed the envelope too far. “Then why are you here, eating lunch with me?”

  Why was she here? she upbraided herself. Why did she keep doing things with him she knew she’d regret? Where did this self destructive bent come from? Was it because she felt lonely, watching her brothers leave the single life behind one by one? Or was it that she was just being masochistic?

  “Because I was afraid you’d cause a scene at the office if I said no.”

  He’d sooner believe that Butte was the next capital of the United States. “You, Morgan Cutler, have never been afraid of anything in your life.”

  Not true, she thought. She was afraid of these feelings she was having. These feelings that all seemed to be centered on him.

  “Me, on the other hand,” Wyatt continued, “I’m afraid.” His eyes met hers, and he felt something tightening inside. “Very afraid.”

  The words hung in the air between them, beckoning to her, undermining her resolve to remain aloof.

  She knew him, he was setting her up, Morgan thought. Setting her up for some kind of a joke, some kind of a fall. Still, believing all that, she couldn’t help feeling herself being drawn in.

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  That was the jackpot question. “Of ‘this,’ whatever ‘this’ is.” He saw the blank look on her face. “Of what’s going on between us,” he elaborated. “No matter what you think of me, I don’t exactly go on a rampage for conquests to tie to my belt—”

  “That describes it rather well,” she agreed.

  He ignored the quip, he wasn’t looking for a fight. He was looking for a truce. “And I certainly wasn’t after you.”

  She popped the last piece of breadstick into her mouth. “I’m flattered.”

  That hadn’t come out the way he’d intended. Nothing had since he’d gotten mixed up with her. Wyatt tried again.

  “You’re also my best friend’s sister. Do you think I think so little of Hank, of all your brothers, that I’d just wantonly pleasure myself with you?”

  Now she was angry. “Think so little of Hank, so little of all of them,” she echoed incredulously. Where did she figure into all of this? “And just what am I, chopped liver?”

  He grinned. “No, caviar—with a little crab thrown in. The point is…” Frustration began to scratch at him. “The point is—hell, I don’t know what the point i
s, or why I did what I did—”

  She’d never seen him out of his depth before. She could have enjoyed this, if she hadn’t been so closely involved in what had happened.

  “Just keep piling the flattery on, don’t you?”

  Morgan pulled her purse to her in the booth. “Lunch is over. I have to get back to work.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “Lunch just started, I’ll drive you back to work, and I haven’t finished talking yet.”

  She was in no mood to be patient. Being near him just reminded her of what she’d done. And what she’d like to do again. That was the worst of it. She wanted to do it again. Because of all the men she’d ever encountered, only Wyatt seemed to linger longer than the moment in her life. Only Wyatt made her ache and dream and want. She didn’t like being trapped by her emotions and didn’t like being at the mercy of a man she knew she meant nothing to. Even if she had any doubts, he’d all but said as much.

  “Yeah, you have. All you’re doing is feasting on your foot, and fascinating though that is, I don’t have time to sit and watch you do it.” His hand moved to her wrist, tightening as she rose. Morgan’s eyes grew steely as she looked at him. “Let go of me, Wyatt.”

  “Then you let go of me.”

  She stared at him. What was he talking about? “What?”

  “You heard me. Let go of me. I can’t get you out of my mind. You’re there all the time, crowding out everything else.” He smiled cryptically. “Sounds just like you, doesn’t it?”

  It was a lie, all of it, said at her expense. He was just trying to get her to admit that she had feelings for him. Well, let him do his worst. He’d go to his grave waiting.

  Her gaze was cold as she fixed it on him. “I don’t know why all the other girls always thought you were so charming. You could definitely do with lessons.”

  He was tired of games, tired of vying for equal footing. “Maybe I’m not trying to be charming.”

  “Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded brilliantly.”

  He felt his temper fraying. That hardly ever happened. She really did have a knack for turning him inside out. “Can you drop the act for a minute and just be honest with me?”

  Morgan’s own temper flashed. It was all she could do to keep her voice down. “What act?”

  “The tough little cookie. I’ve seen your soft center, Morgan. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  The man was all gall. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”

  But Wyatt wouldn’t release her hand. “No, I will not excuse you.” He saw her staring at him in stunned surprise. “You’ve messed with my mind and with me, and frankly, Morgan, I don’t have a clue what to do about it.”

  Morgan wasn’t buying it, not any of it. Wyatt McCall had too many women in his life competing for his attention. This had to be an act, and although she had no idea what he was up to or why he was doing it, she knew she wasn’t about to get ensnared in it.

  “It’s a fever. Take two aspirins and don’t call me in the morning.” With that, she walked away from the table as quickly as she could.

  Morgan was almost at the door before he caught up to her. Taking hold of her arm, Wyatt spun her around to face him. She opened her mouth to ask him what he thought he was doing, but she never got the chance. He kissed her midway between the reception desk and the salad bar. Kissed her in front of everyone who had come to eat lunch at O’Shay’s that afternoon. Kissed her long and hard until she was certain that the bottom of her feet had burned a hole in the highly buffed wooden floor.

  His heart was racing by the time he pulled away, but he managed to conceal from the one person it would have mattered to. “You accused me of having a fever, I thought I’d share it with you.”

  This time, Morgan got to watch him walk away. Leaving her completely numb, Wyatt returned to their table without so much as a backward glance in her direction.

  Morgan felt the color rise to her cheeks. Muttering a curse about his lineage, Morgan hurried out of the restaurant.

  8

  He was making her crazy.

  Morgan knew that had been Wyatt’s intention all along, and she hated admitting, even to herself, that he was succeeding royally, damn him. And the worst part of it was that everyone was beginning to notice that for the past two weeks, she just hadn’t been herself.

  Who she was heaven only knew. She certainly didn’t, not since he’d been messing with her mind. All she knew was that she wanted what she knew wasn’t good for her, what she shouldn’t want’.

  He was probably having himself a good laugh over it. Probably? She would have made book on it.

  Morgan forced herself to concentrate on the moment, not the man.

  The hundred-year-old organ, which had been there longer than the church, was filling the newly refurbished building with the strains of the wedding march. Audra was trying very hard not to trip as she made her way down the aisle in a long gown. Unlike the street-length silver-green dresses that the bridesmaids were wearing, Audra’s was white, like her mother’s. It had been specifically chosen to signifying that Will was not just making Denise part of his life, but Audra, as well.

  Moving slowly, the little girl was scattering soft pink rose pedals along the long, white runner, taking care to distribute them as evenly as she could.

  And then it was Morgan’s turn. Morgan’s turn to walk down the aisle arm in arm with Wyatt. She could feel her stomach tightening as they mutually drew closer to each other.

  Three down, one to go after today, she thought as she slipped her arm through his, doing her best to ignore the warmth spreading through her. She already knew that she’d be paired with him again next Saturday. It seemed like the one practical joke her family was perpetually playing on her over and over again each ceremony.

  The smile on her lips was forced.

  She could get through this, she told herself. After the ceremony and the photographs, she only had to be near Wyatt one more time today. During the first dance. One silly little dance and then she would be free to mingle amid the guests and stay as far away from him as physically possible.

  It was a plan. A plan she meant to follow. Why a sense of reluctance washed over her was not something she felt up to exploring.

  “You look lovely,” Wyatt whispered, just as they drew near the altar.

  Startled, Morgan’s eyes widened, and she looked at him in surprise.

  “What’s the punch line?” she murmured softly.

  His gaze was long, languid just before they parted. “You tell me,” he mouthed.

  Now what was that supposed to mean? Why was he giving her riddles on top of a hard time?

  Bewildered, Morgan took her place between Fiona and Brianne, trying to make sense of what Wyatt had just said. She couldn’t.

  She didn’t need this, she thought. Didn’t need this at all.

  Splendid. That was the word to sum up Denise’s wedding gown, all right, Morgan thought. Sleeveless, A-line with every inch covered in white appliqué, the gown took Morgan’s breath away.

  Very slowly, her arm twined with her father’s, Denise walked down the aisle toward the man she’d given her heart to. As they joined hands, Denise was beaming.

  That was the kind of bride she wanted to be, Morgan thought. A happy one. It didn’t matter what she wore or who attended, although she knew she wanted her family there. But as for the rest of it, it could take place in a barn with her wearing burlap as long as the man who slipped the ring on her finger made her heart sing.

  There’d never been a man like that in her life, she thought with regret as the priest began to lead them through the ceremony.

  At least, not until…

  It felt like a lightning bolt had just zapped right through her. Morgan’s eyes darted over toward Wyatt and discovered that he was looking at her.

  Oh, God, she was doomed to live alone for the rest of her life.

  Pressing her lips together, Morgan looked forwa
rd, focusing on Will and Denise. This was their day, not hers. Later, after the reception, she’d think about her solitary destiny, not now.

  As the words, the sacred solemnity of the vows, penetrated, Morgan felt a tear slip out. It slid down her cheek before she could stop it.

  She was crying, Wyatt realized. He was beginning to see that no matter what she protested to the contrary and how sharp her tongue seemed at times, the woman had a heart like a marshmallow.

  It made him smile.

  Wyatt thought of the photograph on her desk. The one that had sent him to his phone to call Hank and ask him questions that suddenly needed answers. Of all of them, Hank was the closest to Morgan in age, and Wyatt thought it might give him a vantage point. Besides, Hank was his best friend, and he trusted Hank not to tell Morgan that he was asking about her.

  If she found out, it might make things more uncomfortable between them than they already were.

  Despite all his promises to himself about never falling into a trap again, he was interested. And maybe just a little bit hooked, as well.

  But there was no danger of Morgan springing a trap for him the way Judith had. Morgan would be the one who would set him free if she found him in a trap. He was convinced that she couldn’t care less about how he felt. She’d probably laugh if she discovered that he cared.

  Just his luck to finally fall for someone, and she hated the sight of him.

  Well, not all the time, Wyatt amended silently, thinking of the last two weddings. And she had definitely kissed him back in the restaurant after she’d recovered from her surprise, he recalled.