Haven Creek (23 page)

“What are the odds that both of your sisters would have a set of twins?”

“It is a little eerie. Both Irene and Rachel claim they’re not going to have any more kids. But when Amanda heard that she had two new baby brothers she threw a hissy fit because she wanted one of them to be a girl.”

Nate groaned. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall to see her reaction when Rachel and James bring the twins home.”

“I hear you,” Morgan intoned. “My mother promised Amanda that she’s going to take her with her when she goes to a spa for a few hours of pampering. Of the six grandchildren, Amanda is the only girl. So that alone makes her special.”

“Maybe one day you’ll give them another granddaughter,” Nate said teasingly.

“Maybe.” There wasn’t much conviction in the single word. Morgan jumped up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to see what you bought me.”

Nate sat watching Morgan as she unwrapped the rectangular package he had brought, first carefully removing the bow and then methodically peeling off the decorative paper. She glanced up, smiling. “I know you didn’t wrap this.”

His expression was impassive. “How do you know that?”

“It’s wrapped too neatly.”

Nate returned her smile. “You’re right. If left up to me it would’ve had a thousand pieces of tape on it.” Her eyes widened when she saw the leather-covered tablet computer inside the box.

Morgan threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, baby.”

Holding her close, he pulled her back so that she was sitting between his knees. “I didn’t know if you had one.”

“I do now.”

“Turn it on,” Nate urged. “I registered it in my name, but you can always deregister it and transfer it to yours.”

Morgan pressed a button, turning on the iPad. She touched the Books icon, and two titles appeared on the screen. Her eyelids fluttered. “I don’t believe it. You got me
Civil Disobedience
by Henry David Thoreau and
Discourse on Inequality
by Jean-Jacques Rousseau.” Nervously, she ran her tongue over her lower lip. “I love it and I love you.”

Nate pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck, inhaling her essence. He didn’t want to interpret her “I love you” to be more than an expression—one that was bantered about much too loosely. And he didn’t want to go there and try to imagine himself falling in love with Morgan.

He liked her a lot, but falling in love was definitely not an option. He’d acknowledged that she was nothing like Kim, yet something wouldn’t permit him to open his heart again to the inevitable pain he was sure would follow.

Nate had loved his mother unconditionally, and he’d unknowingly transferred that love to Kim. He’d wanted to take care of her, but what she’d done in the dark had come to light when photographs of her and her manager in a compromising position were splashed across tabloid papers by relentless paparazzi.

Distrust had reared its ugly head, and Nate knew he could never trust a woman again with his heart. A wry smile twisted his mouth when he recalled Morgan’s grandfather’s sage advice about thinking with his head and not his heart. He didn’t know if Morgan was the woman with whom he could spend the rest of his life, but Nate wasn’t willing to risk it.

“How can I thank you for the tablet?”

Her soft query shook Nate from his reverie. “You did already.”

Morgan flashed a demure smile. “I’m not talking about saying thank you.”

Nate turned Morgan to face him, giving her an intense stare. “You did when you put down a dollar as your commission for decorating my place.”

“Don’t you know how to be gracious, Nate?”

“A dollar, Morgan. That’s ridiculous.”

“I’ll charge you the going rate the next time we do business.”

“Is there going to be a next time?” he asked.

“Of course. Would you be amenable to a barter to offset the one-dollar commission?”

Nate squinted at her. “What are you proposing?”

“I’d like you to make a mini-mansion dollhouse for Amanda’s sixth birthday.”

“No fair, baby. That still won’t equal your commission.”

Leaning closer, she brushed her mouth over his. “Then I’m going to think of something else I’d like you to do for me. Right now, talking about money is boring the heck out of me. Can we drop the subject?”

Nate shook his head. “No.” There was no way he was going to take advantage of his relationship with Morgan.

Her expression stilled, her eyes narrowing. “Either you let it go or we’re done, Nate. I mean it.”

This was a side of Morgan Nate hadn’t seen before. He’d always viewed her as easygoing, someone with whom he could talk about anything. It was apparent he’d underestimated her tenaciousness. He was only willing to let the subject drop because he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Not yet.

“Okay,” he conceded. “Consider the topic dropped.”

“Thank you.”

He eased the tablet from her hand, set it on the countertop, then scooped her up in his arms. “I need to lie down and wait for some of this food to digest. What can I do to convince you to join me?”

Morgan wrapped her arms around his neck to keep her balance. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Where are we napping?”

“In the solarium.” She buried her face against the column of his neck. “It’s next to the office.”

Nate carried Morgan into the solarium, stopping abruptly when he stared through the glass structure. The backyard was a riot of flowers, and beyond that he could see Haven Creek, the meandering body of water that had given the town its name.

The room was furnished with a white wrought iron daybed, a white wicker love seat, and a chaise with floral-patterned cushions, all atop a natural sisal rug. Royal blue, yellow, and bright green glazed pots overflowing with flowers, ferns, and palms turned the space into an indoor oasis. A trio of white wrought iron étagères was stacked with books, vinyl records in their colorful sleeves, black-and-white photographs, and a small stereo system. The gurgle of falling water over stalks of bamboo, from an indoor waterfall in the corner, was soothing and hypnotic. Nate knew without asking that this was where Morgan spent most of her time.

“This is nice,” he drawled.

“It’s my sanctuary.”

He put her down to the daybed, then walked over to the wall. Nate recognized the glass. He could see out, but no one could see in. It was the perfect place to make love while viewing the splendor and majesty of nature.

Turning, he saw Morgan staring back at him. He smiled. “You could run around here naked as a jaybird and no one would be able to see you,” he said.

She returned his smile with a dimpled one of her own. “I wouldn’t know, because I’ve never done it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not that uninhibited.”

“You’re an artist. I thought most artists were.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “Not this one.”

Striding across the room, Nate reached down and ge
n
tly pulled her to her feet. “We’re going to have to do something about that.” Morgan raised her head, their gazes meeting and fusing. “What do you want, baby?”

Morgan wanted to beg Nate to make love to her, but she didn’t want him to believe she was weak and vulnerable. She wanted to come to him as an equal in a journey in which she no longer needed a man to take her virginity or restore her confidence in her femininity. But in a moment of weakness she’d confessed to Nate that she loved him.

Leaning into his hard body, she looped her arms around his waist. “I want you to make love to me,” she whispered in his ear.

Nate tightened his hold on her upper arms. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

His hands shifted from her arms to her face, cradling it gently between his callused palms. “I’ll take it slow. If there’s anything you want me to do, then let me know.”

Her dimples winked at him. “I want you to stop talking.”

Nate slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss until her lips parted. She gasped when his tongue curled around hers, then moved in and out of her mouth.

Her breathing quickened as the area between her legs throbbed with a need she hadn’t thought imaginable. Morgan felt like she was having an erotic dream. But holding Nate, tasting him, feeling his hardness pressed against her thighs, said otherwise.
Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.
Rousseau’s words were never more fitting than at this moment. She’d waited years for this moment, and now she was about to experience the sweetness she’d craved for longer than she could remember.

T
ogether she and Nate took the bolster and throw pillows off the daybed, removed the slipcover, and pulled out the trundle, converting it into a queen-size bed. Sheets covered with sprigs of rosebuds matched the slipcover.

Sitting on the mattress, Morgan watched, transfixed, as her soon-to-be lover undressed. It appeared as if he were moving in slow motion when he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it on the chaise. She held her breath when she saw the tattoo over his heart. The artist had inked
MANDA
in small, neat cursive.

Morgan didn’t know why, but at the moment she felt like crying—crying for Nate, who hadn’t been able to cry at his mother’s funeral. She was grateful she hadn’t attended Manda Shaw’s funeral because the look on Nate’s face probably would’ve haunted her for years. There were times when she’d caught glimpses of sadness in his eyes, but it was only fleeting. He kicked off his running shoes, bending slightly to remove his socks. Before placing his jeans on the chaise he removed a condom from one of the pockets.

When Nate talked about his brother’s upcoming wedding and fatherhood, she realized Francine’s vision wasn’t about her and Nate; it was about Bryce and Stacy. Although Nate had promised to use protection, she had to take responsibility for her own reproductive future, and that meant taking an oral contraceptive.

Thoughts were tumbling over themselves in her head, because Morgan didn’t want to think about what she was going to embark upon. She’d spent so many years fantasizing about Nate—that they’d fallen in love, he’d given her his mother’s engagement ring, they’d exchanged vows at Haven Creek Baptist Church, and that she would tuck their children into bed, kiss them good night, and then slip into bed bedside him and they would make endless love until they, too, fell asleep.

She noticed the smile tilting the corners of Nate’s mouth as he pushed his boxers off his hips and stepped out of them. Morgan felt as if oxygen had been siphoned from her lungs, leaving her gasping for her next precious, lifesaving breath. Fully erect Nate was larger than any man she’d seen. The fear must have shown on her face when he moved closer, sat down, and embraced her.

It had been a long time for Morgan, much too long.

She closed her eyes, resting a hand on his smooth chest, while feeling the strong steady beating of his heart under her palm.

Morgan let her senses take over when Nate deftly unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked her bra, and cupped her breasts. She gasped, and then sucked in her breath when his mouth replaced his hands. He suckled her breasts, worshipping them, and the moans she sought to suppress escaping her parted lips.

Nate’s tongue worked its magic, circling her nipples, leaving them hard, erect, and throbbing. Waves of pleasure washed over Morgan when his teeth tightened on the turgid tips, and she felt a violent spasm grip her core.

“Nate,” she moaned, his name becoming a litany. Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. She was drowning in a haze of passion threatening to pull her under to a place where she’d never been. What she was experiencing surpassed every fantasy she’d ever had. The pleasure was so intense it was akin to pain, a pain she didn’t want to stop.

Morgan felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience. She’d stepped outside of herself as she watched Nate slip off her shorts and, finally, her panties. She didn’t think she would ever forget the look in his eyes when he stared at her.

“Mo, Mo, Mo,” he crooned. “Shame on you for hiding such deliciousness with clothes.” She reached down to cover her neatly shorn mound, but Nate caught her wrists, pulling her hands above her head. “No, baby, there’s no need to hide from me, because there’s not going to be one place on your body that will go untouched.”

True to his word, Nate began with light, feathery kisses along Morgan’s hairline. He forced himself to slow down when the need to penetrate her had become an all-con
sumi
ng obsession.

Nate wasn’t certain when it had begun. Perhaps it was seeing her at the reception, where there had been men who’d tried too hard to get her to notice them. Or maybe it was when he looked at her in her office—really looked at her for the first time, not as a girl but as a woman. The impact had been as unexpected as the hard-on that wouldn’t permit him to stand up lest she notice it.

Whether it was her sultry voice, her laugh, or even the graceful curves of her tall, slender body, he had to admit to himself that he’d fallen for Morgan, hard. He’d told himself that what he felt for her was lust because he refused to acknowledge that he was falling in love with her. And for Nate, love and trust were one and the same, indivisible. In a moment of madness and insanity he’d lowered his guard and fallen in love with Kim, and she’d shattered the remnants of the fragile trust he’d managed to cobble together for her. And unfortunately Morgan had become collateral damage in a drama not of her choosing.

It should’ve been Nate and not Bryce planning a wedding and preparing for fatherhood. It should’ve been Nate and Morgan announcing their engagement, planning to marry in another two or three years. There was no doubt they would work well together—she designing homes and interiors and he building them.

He would come home every night to a house filled with mouthwatering aromas, the sounds of barking dogs, and children shrieking and laughing when he played toss with them. He wanted that and so much more, but Nate knew it would take years, if not forever, before he could trust another woman again.

He fastened his mouth along the column of Morgan’s neck, wishing he could nibble there, but he didn’t want to bruise her skin. He loved her skin—its color, smell, and texture. He loved her short hair, which smelled like coconut or a field of wildflowers, depending on which shampoo she used. Nate never tired of staring into her large eyes, seeing her dimpled smile, or watching her walk. Her litheness and grace never failed to send his libido into overdrive.

Still holding onto her wrist, Nate charted a path with his lips and tongue over Morgan’s throat, shoulders, breastbone, belly, and, still lower, to the apex of her thighs. He felt her trembling as he used his knee to part her legs with the ferociousness of a starving man. He staked his claim on her wet, quivering sex. Morgan’s pleas for him to stop faded, becoming moans that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Nate was relentless, nibbling and suckling her like a hungry newborn.

Morgan suffered through the erotic torture, fearing she was going to faint from the pleasure that raced headlong from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Currents of passion flowed through her as if she’d touched a live wire. She went completely still before bucking and thrashing with the orgasm that seized her, holding her captive. It released her momentarily before sweeping her up again in a maelstrom of pleasure so intense it stopped her heart for several seconds. In the midst of her free fall, she felt Nate easing himself inside her, sliding in slowly and filling her with his hardness.

He’d released her hands, and Morgan wound her arms around his neck, luxuriating in the enjoyable sensation of his filling every inch of her. His unhurried lovemaking revived her as she rose and fell in concert with his pumping hips. He cupped his hands under her hips, allowing for deeper penetrating. A keening echoed in the room, and it took a moment for Morgan to realize it’d come from her. This was the first time since becoming sexually active that she’d really and truly been made love to.

She was forced to let go of Nate’s neck when he raised her legs, anchoring them on his shoulders. An expression of carnality swept over his features as his gaze met hers, and she rose to meet his body in a moment of uncontrolled passion. A moan of ecstasy slipped past her lips as she climaxed over and over, drowning in the sweetest agony she’d ever known as Nate’s deep groans overlapped hers when he found his own release.

They lay motionless, heart to heart, and Morgan wanted to revel in the peace and contentment that made it impossible for her to move or draw a normal breath. She’d waited nearly twenty years to sleep with Nate, but her happiness was overshadowed with the reality that she may never have a future with this man.

“Did I hurt you, baby?”

“No.”

Lifting his head, Nate stared at her. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Morgan forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Very sure.”

His kissed her forehead. “You were wonderful.”

“So were you.” She let out an audible gasp when he pulled out.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, tugging off the condom.

Rolling over on her side, she pulled her knees to her chest and waited for Nate to return. She couldn’t control the thoughts running through her head. How long would they continue to be lovers before she was forced to tell Nate that she wanted more than he was willing to give?

There might come a time when she would be able to balance marriage, motherhood, and a career, but there was one thing for certain. Nate would not be her husband or the father of her children.

He returned, kissing the nape of her neck. “Turn over on your back so I can clean you up a little.”

She closed her eyes when he drew the warm, damp cloth between her legs. Try as she might, Morgan couldn’t halt the tears filling her eyes. Nate was the perfect tender, gentle, and considerate lover.

“Hey, Mo. Why the tears?” he whispered.

“Can’t a woman cry because she’s happy?” she lied smoothly.

His expression was impassive. “I have a confession to make.”

“What is it, Nate?”

“I’d rather face a charging bull than see a woman cry.”

She swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Leaning closer, Nate pressed his mouth to hers. “Please don’t apologize for being happy, because right about now I feel good enough to pick you up and run around outside as naked as the day we came into the world. And I wouldn’t care who saw us.”

Morgan giggled like a little girl. “And the good citizens of Haven Creek would run the both of us out of town for public lewdness.”

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a bad girl?”

“No! Why would you ask me that?” she asked Nate.

His right eyebrow lifted a fraction. “I’d thought about being a bad boy when I was younger. I didn’t want to get arrested, but raise just enough hell to let out some frustration.”

“Did that frustration have anything to do with you losing your mother?”

Nate’s demeanor changed like quicksilver when he smiled. “Forget I mentioned it.” He kissed Morgan. “I’ll be right back,” he promised again.

Morgan didn’t know how she knew it, but she didn’t have to have Francine’s gift of sight to know that Nate’s frustration stemmed from his mother’s death. Had he blamed himself for not doing enough for her while she was alive? Or…her thoughts trailed off. No, she didn’t even want to think that Lucas Shaw had Manda taken off life support so he could marry Odessa.

She mentally berated herself for believing the gossip that had spread across Cavanaugh Island like wildfire. People were saying that someone had hexed Manda, because one day she was the picture of health and the next she looked like the walking dead. And all fingers pointed to Odessa, who’d coveted her friend’s husband and had come to the Creek to hasten Manda’s passing.

Morgan realized she’d been too young to understand the dynamics or the superstitions, but what she’d overheard was disturbing enough for her to ask her mother about it. That was when Gussie sat her three daughters down and warned them that if they repeated gossip about Lucas, Manda, or Odessa they wouldn’t be able to leave the house except to go to school until they were grown and out on their own. Not being Gullah, Gussie never wanted to get caught up with talk about family roots and conjuring.

Morgan hadn’t thought about it until now, and she wondered if Nate had knowledge about or believed what others had said about his parents. He’d opened up to her about his ex-wife, and if he trusted her with that he might eventually open up about his family. One thing she didn’t intend to do was pry. She knew if she hoped to have a positive relationship with Nate, then there had to be mutual trust and respect, something that had been missing in her past two relationships.

Nate walked into the solarium carrying two pillows and a sheet he’d taken from the supply in her bedroom. He handed her the pillows. “I figure we should get some sleep if we’re going to be up late tonight.”

The first day of the fair didn’t begin until 6:00 p.m. All week, workers had been setting up booths and various rides for kids and adults in an open lot in Angels Landing. There were games and contests, with prizes of large stuffed animals. There were booths selling corn dogs, pizza, hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob, beer on tap, funnel cakes, sausage and peppers, cotton candy, and an assortment of candied apples.

Over the next three days, shops in the Cove and Creek would open their doors at six in the morning and remain open until midnight. The farmers’ markets would set up in the Haven Creek Baptist Church parking lot, where locals and tourists would fill bags and baskets with locally grown fruits, vegetables, honey, and meat. On July 4, the Cove’s town square would be the gathering place for those entering their cakes, pies, one-pots, casseroles, and barbecue in contests that would be judged by chefs and cooks from some of South Carolina’s finest restaurants. Home-cooked meals would be made available for sale in all three island churches.

During the Island Fair, the population on Cavanaugh Island usually swelled to more than two thousand on any given day, and plainclothes police officers from Charleston were recruited to monitor suspicious persons and activities. Except for a few arrests for public intoxication, the four-day event usually went off without incident.

Morgan smiled as Nate spread the sheet over her body. Then he got into bed with her. “Does the sunlight bother you?” she asked when he pressed his groin to her hips.

“No.” He kissed her shoulder. “Go to sleep, otherwise I’m going to want seconds.”