Haven Creek (20 page)

“You would shoot some boy because he slept with your daughter?” There was no mistaking the fear in Morgan’s voice.

“I would if he took advantage of her.”

It was only when she saw the flash of Nate’s teeth in the diffuse light that Morgan realized he wasn’t serious. And she knew if she continued to sit on his lap it would lead to something she wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with. At least not at this point in their relationship.

“Are you ready to see the mock-up of your decorated apartment?”

Bracing himself with one hand, Nate stood, bringing Morgan up with him. “Yes.”

N
ate felt like a hypocrite, telling Morgan to forgive and forget when he was still dealing with his own unresolved issue of forgiving Odessa. Without conferring with a therapist, he knew it all had to do with the fact that Odessa and his mother were childhood friends. Where, he mused, was the trustworthiness? Couldn’t Odessa have waited until after her friend died to go after Lucas?

Lucas had been forty, an age when virile men have physical needs, but what Nate didn’t and refused to understand was his father’s audaciousness. Had he experienced any guilt while sleeping with another woman in the same bed where he’d slept with his wife? Or had he been blinded with lust? Or perhaps his inability to make love to his sick wife left him vulnerable.

He pulled his thoughts away from his past as he followed Morgan through her sunny parlor, past its wall-mounted flat-screen TV and into a nearly all-white living room that opened out into a dining room claiming the same palette. White walls provided the backdrop for the creamy upholstered modern sofa, love seat, and club chair. A collection of black-and-white photographs was displayed on one wall. Crystal vases on the white coffee and corner tables cradled bouquets of fresh flowers that added color to the serenity of the space. Light from the crystal chandelier overhead reflected warmly on the glossy wood floor.

Though the living room was formal, the dining room had a welcoming feel. The table, with seating for ten, was made of white planks of bleached pine. Matching ladder-back chairs had blue-and-white pin-striped seat cushions. A profusion of dried hydrangeas in varying hues ranging from creamy white to deep purple filled a trio of blue Depression glass vases on an antique buffet server. Nate noted that the floors in the dining room, which were rubbed with white paint and glazed, sparkled under the overhead ceiling fixture. The windows in both rooms were draped with white-on-white awning-striped voile that let an abundance of natural light into the space.

Morgan met his gaze when he turned to look at her. “All the furniture in the living and dining rooms belonged to my grandmother.” She gave him a knowing smile. “You already know the tables and buffet server were made by your people. I had to replace the chairs in the parlor because they were too worn to repair. My grandparents only entertained in the living room on special occasions.”

“How many bedrooms do you have?” he asked.

“Three. Come with me and I’ll show you the kitchen,” she said, leading him down a narrow hallway. “This is the only room I remodeled.”

As in the other two rooms, Morgan had again used an all-white palette. Two of the four walls were exposed brick. The brick color and pattern were repeated in glazed tiles on the floor. Nate found the modern space, with its hanging live palms and ferns, pristine and homey. A round table surrounded by four chairs matched the one in the dining room. Nate didn’t have to look at the underside to know it was built by a Shaw.

“You can do some serious cooking in here.”

“This is one of my favorite rooms in the house. Whenever I have company everyone gathers here.”

“You don’t use the dining room?” he asked.

“I do only if I host Easter or Christmas. I gave up trying to get everyone to eat in the dining room. I bought a couple of folding tables with chairs that I use whenever it’s my turn to cook Sunday dinner.”

“Am I invited?” he asked teasingly.

“Of course, Nate. If Daddy told you to call him Stephen, then that means he thinks of you as family.”

Nate angled his head. “Did he tell your brothers-in-law to call him Stephen when they were going with your sisters?”

“No, but that’s only because they didn’t come from Cavanaugh Island.”

“So I get special treatment because I’m a native?”

“He knows you, Nate. And he knows your family. That goes a long way with my dad. Daddy wasn’t too happy when he heard Irene was marrying a man with a ready-made family, but that all changed once he met Anthony and the boys. Daddy loves fishing and he always takes Brian, Brandon, and Ethan with him. Maybe because he had three girls, he really enjoys doing guy things with his grandsons.”

“You have a wonderful family.”

“We have our problems, like any other family, but I love each and every one of them.”

Nate wished he could echo Morgan’s sentiments. Her family had embraced Anthony’s nephews as if they were blood, while he still couldn’t totally embrace Odessa as his stepmother even though she’d given birth to his brother.

“I’ll show you the bedrooms before you see the space I added.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

“There’s a half bath off the pantry and one outside the bedrooms. The first bedroom is mine.”

Standing at the entrance to the master bedroom, Nate found out everything he needed to know about the woman who’d managed to slip under the barrier he’d erected to keep women at a distance. She was a romantic.

What originally had been curiosity was now an increasing need to spend as much time with her as possible. Yet every moment he was with her, he couldn’t help wanting to kiss her and touch her, but he knew that doing so could push her away and ruin things before they really got started. The notion shocked him, because even as a bumbling adolescent with raging hormones he’d never been so lacking in self-control. Thankfully, Morgan had asked whether he wanted to see the floor plans for his apartment before she’d detected his erection.

Her bedroom exuded an air of gentle Southern charm. It had a king-size mahogany four-poster draped in a sheer white fabric. The pale shade was repeated in the bed’s delicate antique linens. An oval mahogany table and two pull-up chairs were positioned near a trio of windows from which hung white lace panels. She’d removed the doors to a white chest-on-chest to reveal shelves filled with stacks of blue-and-white sheets, blankets, and pillowcases. Light from bedside table lamps bathed the entire room in gold.

“It’s lovely.”

Morgan scrunched up her nose. “You don’t think it’s too frilly?”

Nate looped his fingers through hers. He smiled. “Your hands are warm tonight. And to answer your question, no, it’s not too frilly.”

“When I was a girl I always wanted a four-poster draped in netting, but I had to share a bedroom with Rachel. She was afraid of thunderstorms, so she would always get out of her twin bed and get into mine. We’d huddle together until it was over.”

Raising her hand, Nate pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Are you afraid of storms?”

The corners of her mouth lifted when she smiled. “No. But I am afraid of snakes.”

Letting go of her hand, he hugged her. “Snakes would rather retreat than attack.”

Morgan curved her arms under Nate’s shoulders. “Tell that to someone else. I think my fear came from seeing one sunning itself in the backyard when I was a kid. I thought it was a branch until I almost stepped on it. I started screaming and couldn’t stop. Daddy came out of the house with his gun and killed it. Ever since he told me it was a Carolina pigmy, and that most people don’t hear its rattles until it was too late, I’ve harbored an intense fear of snakes. A kid was bitten last year after he’d tried to chase one that had gotten into his daddy’s chicken’s coop. If Dr. Monroe hadn’t had a supply of antivenom on hand he would’ve been airlifted to Charleston.”

Nate rubbed her back in a comforting gesture. “Stop it, baby. You’re getting yourself worked up over something that may never happen.”

Leaning back in his embrace, Morgan stared up at him. “I know I’m being silly…”

“No, you’re not. You have a fear of snakes. Everyone is afraid of something.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” he lied smoothly. He was afraid of liking her too much, afraid that their easygoing relationship would become more than he would be able to deal with emotionally.

Nate’s vow not to become involved with a woman was shattered the instant he’d shared a dance with Morgan at the Happy Hour. For the first time in a very long time he’d gone out on a date that didn’t involve sex. After he’d separated from Kim, there had been a string of nameless, faceless women who’d come in and out of his life until he woke up one morning and asked himself what he was doing. He knew he couldn’t continue that lifestyle, because each time he put a woman into a taxi to send her home he felt as if he were losing a little part of himself. His having to come back to Haven Creek had saved him both physically
and
emotionally, because it was only a matter of time before he would have become a bitter, jaded middle-aged man blaming everyone except himself for the turn his life had taken.

When Manda was told she would not have long to live, she’d sat him down and lectured him about what she wanted and expected from him. Her only mandate: Take your time to find that special woman to love and protect, as his father had loved and protected her. He’d thought that woman was Kim, but she hadn’t wanted his love or protection. That was something she’d gotten from her manager.

Nate glanced around the bedroom. “Do you sleep here?”

“Of course I sleep here. Why would you say that?”

“It’s looks so sterile. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere. And the bed looks as if it’s never been slept in. It reminds me of those displays you see in furniture warehouse stores.”

Reaching for his hand, Morgan pulled him over to the bed. She sat on the side of the mattress, kicking off her flip-flops. “Take off your shoes and get in.”

“What?”

“Come get into the bed with me.”

Nate’s face clouded with uneasiness. “Why?”

“To prove to you I’m not as anal as you believe I am.”

“I really didn’t mean it when I called you anal.”

“Yeah, you did, Nate. Nothing comes out of your mouth you don’t mean to say.”

She lay on the pillow staring up at him, unaware of how much he wanted to share a bed with her. He wanted to make love to her. There was something about her that had changed him—profoundly. Her artistic outlook on life was refreshing. And she’d gotten him to come out of his shell. That was something no woman had been able to do since his divorce.

“What’s the matter, Nate?” Morgan said, goading him. “Are you afraid I’m going to jump your bones?”

Smiling, Nate cupped his ear. “Is that a challenge or a promise?”

Morgan patted the mattress. “Get in or go home.”

“I thought it was go big or go home,” he said, kicking off his sandals. “Move over, gorgeous.” Morgan scooted over as he lay beside her. “Nice mattress.” Rolling over on her side, she faced him, resting a bare leg over his.

They lay together, their breathing coming and going in a slow, measured rhythm. Morgan thought she would’ve felt a panic sharing the bed with Nate, but it was just the opposite. Cuddling with him on the bed had become a continuation of their beach outing. Never had she felt so relaxed, so confident with a man. Maybe it was because she and Nate had decided beforehand that their relationship would be based on friendship.

“How often do you do this?” Nate asked after a comfortable silence.

“Do what?”

“Invite men to your bed?”

“You’re the first one.”

“Lucky me.”

She laughed softly. “It’s not all that lucky.”

“Let me be the judge of that. I don’t usually get into a woman’s bed unless I’m making love to her.”

Snuggling closer, she wrapped her arm over his waist. “Why can’t I be the exception?”

Removing her arm, Nate turned to face her. “You can’t be the exception, Mo.”

Her smooth brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“We talk about being friends like ten-year-olds, but we’re not kids. I can’t continue to kiss and touch you while pretending that I don’t want more.”

Morgan could hear her heartbeat in her ears. It was beating so fast she was grateful to be lying down. “What is more, Nate?”

He smiled. “You’re a very bright woman, Mo. Figure it out.”

“Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to make love to you.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Nate kissed the bridge of Morgan’s nose. “But I don’t want to put pressure on you.”

“Are you certain that sex won’t complicate things between us?”

“Why should it?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know. I enjoy your company and I love being your friend. I just don’t want that to change.” Morgan couldn’t afford to get caught up, knowing that what they had would never end in a happily ever after. At least not for her. And she didn’t want a repeat of what she’d had with her art history professor. During their relationship she’d lost track of the number of times he’d told her he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but everything came crashing down around her when she found out he’d told several other students the same thing. Once bitten, twice shy had become her mantra. The difference between Leonardo and Nate was that she knew exactly where she stood with the latter. He’d been forthcoming when he said he had no intention of getting married again. For that she was grateful because she wouldn’t be blindsided.

“Were the men in your past bad to you?”

Morgan shook her head. “No. They didn’t do anything to me I didn’t permit them to do. My first serious boyfriend was a fellow college student, and I slept with him for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a boyfriend, and I was more than willing to give up my virginity to him.”

Morgan hadn’t been completely honest with Nate. There were a number of things that led to the breakup, but she was too ashamed to admit that her first lover had asked her to become involved in a ménage à trois, if only to put some excitement in their sex life after he’d slept with her study partner. The final straw came when Morgan called her lover Nate in the throes of passion. Prior to that, the only time she’d been able to climax was when she’d fantasized about Nate making love to her.

“Were you in love with him?”

“No.”
I was still in love with you,
her inner voice answered. “I had another relationship. This one was with my teacher when I lived abroad. He was older, very erudite, and to say I was in awe of him is an understatement.”