not your enemy,” he said when he’d easily caught up with her.
“And you’re not a friend,” she replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
She did have to go. The children were waiting for her. Their parents would arrive soon and she needed to clean up the hall and then get Lily and Jack home to feed them dinner. She did not have time to hang around at the community center with the man who could single-handedly take the building away from them. She definitely did not have to like how he looked and smelled, and damn, how it felt whenever he touched her. No, she didn’t and wouldn’t like any of that. Morgan promised herself she would not.
* * *
Gray ran fast and hard across the field of crisp frost-tipped grass. The air was cool and the sky a dull gray. The scents of nearby animals and the sounds of early-morning farm life wafted all around. This wasn’t the NordicTrack he used in his home gym, or the three-mile track that looped around the top level of the condo building where he lived. Gray ran on either of those on a daily basis. When he was out of town on business, the five-star hotels where he stayed always had state-of-the-art gyms with top-of-the-line equipment, including pools where he could indulge in slow leisurely laps to relax his muscles after a hard workout.
The brochure on the table in the room had called it the Owner’s Suite, but to him, it looked like a top floor had been added to an old horse’s stable.
Gray had been out for more than an hour and he was sure he’d run well over five miles by now and seen more grassy hills and fog-covered mountaintops than he had in all his life. It would have been a breathtaking view for someone who didn’t prefer the city life of bright lights, fast cars and hot women.
The latter, Gray thought as he made his way back to the portion of the Haystack Farm & Resort he’d rented, was what had him up at the crack of dawn. A hot woman camouflaged in a baggy running suit and surrounded by a circus of kids. He’d thought about her all night long. To the point where what sounded to him like someone strangling a rooster woke him just before he’d embarrassed himself with only the second wet dream of his life.
His feet crunched over the graveled walkway that led to the stables and Gray slowed down to a brisk walk. Stretching his arms above his head as he continued to move, he inhaled deeply and exhaled quickly, hoping the immediate slaps of cool air would erase the memories. All of them.
It didn’t work. As he approached the steps Gray stopped. He did a series of three quick squats, then lowered his back leg and began stretching. She wasn’t tall, he thought as he switched legs, his hands resting on his thigh as he lunged. Five feet and two or three inches tall, tops. She wasn’t built, either. Her clothes had been loose but Gray had always been able to spot a great female body. Hers was tight, compact, curvy in all the right places and trim in the others. She had intelligent eyes and a stubborn chin. Her hair was short, styled but not overdone. Her face was cute, not gorgeous, but stick-in-the-mind pretty.
Gray sighed and stood up straight. He put his hands on his hips and let his head fall back as he looked up to the sky. No clouds, no sun, just a blanket of slate. Only one day in this small town and he missed Miami already.
He ran up the steps and let himself into the loft suite that carried the faint smell of the air fresheners that were plugged into every electrical socket in the space, and the earthier scents of hay and horseflesh. There were no five-star hotels in Temptation. Only two bed-and-breakfasts and this fully functional farm, which also billed itself as a resort. There were no televisions, either. No internet connection and no phones. The signal on his cell was weak, but the electrical outlets worked well enough so at least they kept his phone and tablet charged.
The shower worked, he thought with a frown. Thank the heavens for that. Stripping as he made his way back to the bathroom, Gray reminded himself why he was here.
To inspect the buildings and put them on the market.
That was all.
When he stepped beneath the spray of hot water, he whispered again, “That is all.”
But the moment he closed his eyes and tipped his head beneath the water, he saw her face. Big hazel eyes, a pert nose and small, very kissable lips. He’d wanted to kiss her as they’d been standing in that dark hallway. When he’d stepped closer to her it had been his intention to lean in and touch his lips to hers. It wasn’t going to be gentle, rather demanding, hungry and needy. Gray dropped his head at the thought. He didn’t need anyone. He never had.
If it was for sex, which his body was telling him with no uncertainty that it was, then he could call any number of women the moment he arrived back in Miami. He did not need to acknowledge his arousal around some small-town woman with a chip on her shoulder. Except that when she’d brushed up against him, his erection had come quick and hard, both times. Just that brush of her soft body against his had made him want her. Gray cursed. It had been a very long time since he’d wanted anything, or anyone.
He picked up the bar of soap and used the cloth he’d grabbed before entering the shower. Building a thick lather, he placed the soap back into the vintage silver tray and began to wash the sweat from his body. Only each stroke of that warm and sudsy cloth over his skin had him aching more with need. After the first few seconds Gray wanted to drop that cloth and wrap his hands around his burgeoning length. He wanted to stroke and stroke until there was a blessed release. His eyes opened quickly with that thought as he gritted his teeth and fought like hell to keep his hands on any other part of his body aside from his throbbing arousal.
When she’d looked up at him he’d wanted to whisper her name.
Morgan.
Morgan Hill.
She was just a woman.
Just a woman that he wanted to sink so deep inside of that everything about this dismal small town and what it had done to his family would be washed from his mind, once and for all. Gray had no idea if that would work, or if he even wanted to bother. Morgan had children, which meant there was most likely a father to those children in the picture somewhere. That was another entanglement Gray did not have the time or the inclination to manage.
With jerking movements he continued to wash and then rinsed beneath the steamy water. Once his shower was complete he dressed and sat at the little desk that faced the window. The view was breathtaking, if one liked such a thing. Gray did not. A country setting, simple living—neither was for him. He reached into his leather bag and pulled out the files he’d brought with him. Without internet access in this room, he would have uninterrupted time to go over his most recent sales projections and R&D reports. There was no doubt that once he logged into his email there would be numerous issues for him to address. Even on a Sunday morning.
His mother used to love Sundays, Gray thought as he stared down at the papers, then up to the window. She loved walking in the sand and watching the tide roll in just outside the house they’d lived in on Pensacola Beach. That was the only time Olivia Taylor had looked peaceful, Gray recalled. The only time after his father had left them.
“Hello?” Gray answered his cell phone, which had begun to ring loudly, snatching him out of his thoughts.
“Hi. How’s it going?”
It was his sister Gemma. She was the oldest of the girls and the one Gray had been closest to since the two of them had taken care of the others when their mother began to get sick.
“Slowly” was his tired reply. “Apparently, the
