Naughty By Nature. Jule McBride

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in a screwball comedy and Medusa, she hoped she didn’t look too ridiculous, but it was hard to gauge Morgan’s reaction. Only his eyes moved, following dried green dust as it sprinkled from her hair, flaking over her bare shoulders. Otherwise, he remained stock-still, each of his stone-hard, well-toned muscles tense.

      Lucy cleared her throat loudly, as if trying to retrieve her voice from as far away as the stratosphere. “Hey,” she suggested in an overly bright tone. “Why don’t I leave you two alone? I bet you’d like to talk!”

      There was a long, otherworldly silence as if the planet had spun to a stop on its axis. And then Morgan growled, “Oh, no, you don’t, Lucy. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here.”

      Ignoring his commanding tone, Lucy stepped backward, attempting an escape toward the stairs to the kitchen, but Morgan flexed his fingers and tightened the grip on her shoulder in a way Vanessa imagined had to hurt. Still groggy from lack of sleep and confused because he didn’t seem to want to be alone with her, Vanessa rapidly blinked, another thrill coursing through her when she saw all the empty condom packets strewn across the red carpet.

      “Roll out the red carpet,” she whispered in shock, more images of last night racing back to her. That many condoms? Drawing a wavering breath, she counted five. Feeling renewed awe over Morgan’s unparalleled virility, she made a mental note to thank Lucy for stocking the drawer in the bedside table so adequately. There would be a special thanks for the ribbed condoms, which, from reading the wrappers, Vanessa now knew came in neon colors. Yes, she and Morgan had definitely added new meaning to the phrase rainbow coalition.

      “Vanessa?” Lucy prompted. “Are you awake yet?”

      “Huh?” Vanessa’s eyes bounced from the condom packets to Morgan, who stared back as if he’d never seen her before. That didn’t bode well. When she averted her gaze, biding her time, she was staring through the windows. Someone had pulled back heavy red velvet drapes, and outside, the winter sky was milky-white. Water had frozen in a fountain on the lawn, and snow flurries were lazily falling through bare tree branches. Two floodlights, which were on an automatic timer, snapped off.

      But what was happening in here? Vanessa was starting to wake up. Just a minute ago, hadn’t Morgan announced he cared about her? Yes, she recalled, still rousing herself from the dazed, stuporous afterglow left by his lovemaking. He’d said theirs was the best sex he’d ever had. The kind of passion, he’d assured, that kept people together forever.

      Vanessa’s thoughts exactly. But the atmosphere had changed. Snuggled under the covers, listening to Morgan’s compliments, she’d felt ecstatic, but she’d better face facts. Morgan had meant to sleep with Lucy. Glancing over her shoulder and judging the distance to Lucy’s bathroom, where she’d left her clothes, Vanessa considered making a run for it. Maybe she could lock herself in there until Morgan left. Or at least wear something other than this sheet while they addressed the misunderstanding.

      It was a lost opportunity, however. Morgan, who was still staring at her dumbly, hoarsely said, “I’m sorry, Ms. Verne. Honestly. I had no idea it was you.”

      And clearly, if he had, he wouldn’t have slept with her. Vanessa exhaled shakily. What did he expect her to say? That she was sorry, too? She wasn’t, so she settled on saying, “Uh, under the circumstances, why don’t you call me Vanessa.”

      Morgan managed a curt nod. “Whatever you say.”

      Given his tone, he might as well have said, You’re the boss. What did the man have against her, anyway? After last night, how could he treat her 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

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