“Hello, Agatha.”
“Jack, thank God I got hold of you. You’ve got to get here as soon as possible.”
Agatha’s frantic voice sent a chill through him. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong. Is Morgan all right?”
“All right?! She’ll never be all right if she goes through with her parents’ demands. That poor girl showed up here an hour ago looking exhausted, her eyes swollen from crying. And what did they do? They just said they were glad she came to her senses. I swear, those two are the coldest people I’ve ever met.”
Jack paced, knowing from past experience he had to let Agatha vent before she could get to the point. “Agatha, do you know what’s going on, why Morgan returned home without talking to me?”
“Of course I do. I held the poor girl while she sobbed her heart out and told me how they were blackmailing her into following through with this ridiculous sham of a marriage. They threatened to buy up your loan on your lodge and then call it in, ruining you. Poor dear, she couldn’t bear it if they caused you to lose that place. And now they expect her to attend this engagement party tomorrow night as if everything was fine. You won’t let our girl go through with this, will you, Jack?”
Jack cursed, wearily rubbing his face as he realized how easily this could have been avoided if Morgan had just come to him. The loan Marc and he had on the lodge and the surrounding acres was at a small bank, privately owned by another Army buddy of theirs and also a frequent visitor. There was no way Jeremy would sell him out.
“Of course not, but I want your word you won’t let on to Morgan that I’m on my way there. She’s going to face me and the consequences for not trusting me before I tell her that her parents’ threat is futile. They can’t hurt me.”
Chapter Nine
Morgan snatched another glass of Champagne from the server as he walked by. Chicago’s elite filled Kathleen and George Tomlinson’s home, everyone there to celebrate her engagement to Joel Norris. The huge ballroom, which they usually kept closed off, echoed with the sounds of laughter and the melodious strains coming from the small orchestra in the corner. A sumptuous buffet ran the length of one wall while the opposite side of the room opened out onto the patio. The white marbled floor shone under the bright glitter of twinkling chandeliers. People mingled, smiled, danced, and congratulated her, and she was oblivious to it all.
Downing the full flute, she relished the burn and subsequent buzz as she forced herself to smile and pretend to be deliriously happy. Her parents kept close to her side for the first time in her life, and Joel made the effort to be seen with his arm around her or giving her a perfunctory kiss every so often before moving off to entertain himself with friends.
“Honestly, Morgan, must you drink like a commoner?” her father growled under his breath.
“Yes,” she snapped back, “that is if you want me to get through this charade without giving away what a farce it is.”
“You always were an ungrateful child,” he returned with cold disapproval.
“Spare me the lecture, father. I’m not in the mood to hear what loving and caring parents I have.” She wanted nothing more than for this night to end so she could return to her apartment and wallow in grief.
A commotion at the front of the room caught their attention. Morgan watched wide-eyed as people parted and a tall, light-haired man strode with arrogant purpose into the room, his dark beard lending him a rough look. His worn jeans emphasized his thick, muscled thighs as he walked with slow, deliberate steps toward her, his dark eyes never leaving her face. Morgan’s eyes filled with tears as the past twenty years ran through her head: her first sight of him when she was just seven years old and he fifteen; their reunions each summer when she returned from school; his patience with her as she followed him around all day and pestered him to entertain her; her heartache when he left for the Army and her joy when he returned; his anger when he caught her spying on him and his date; their first kiss; the arousal only he could sate.
Jack found her right away and his reaction came fast and hard. Wearing a hideous dress designed to hide her figure instead of flaunting it, she stood surrounded by
people and had never looked so alone. Memories of the past assailed him: the lonely little girl who clung to him like a lifeline; the way she would exuberantly throw herself into his arms each time they were reunited; his exasperation in teaching her to drive; his concern when she cried when she hurt; the way he missed her when he left for the Army; the thirsty lust only she could slake. She watched him out of drenched whiskey eyes and his anger at her parents matched his anger at her for daring to throw away everything they had.
“Jack.” Morgan had to physically fight back the urge to fling herself into his arms. It had only been two and a half days since she had seen him and she missed him more in that time than at any other time they were separated.
“Princess.” Holding out his hand, he watched her with grave eyes. “I’m asking you one more time and one more time only. Trust me?”
Struggling to get past the sudden lump lodged in her throat, she realized Jack was throwing himself at her for the first time and there was no way she could turn away from him. In all the years she’d known him, he had only asked one thing of her. Praying she wasn’t making a mistake they both would regret, she took his hand. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go.” Jack pivoted to lead her away when Kathleen stepped in front of them.
“Morgan, this is a disgrace. If you do this, you know what we’ll do.”
“No, you won’t,” Jack stated, his voice dripping ice. Looking down into Morgan’s worried face, he reassured her with a deliberate wink. “They can’t touch our loan, Morgan, so don’t pay any attention to their threats.”
Relief filled her, making her giddy. Looking back at her mother, she smiled then leaned forward to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, mother.”
* * *
“How mad are you?” Morgan asked after he had pulled away from her parents’ house. Though his face had softened when he looked at her with love in the ballroom, his profile now was rigid, his jaw clenched tightly.
“You could have avoided all this drama and saved us both a lot of trouble if you had just talked to me instead of running off, Morgan.”
She really hated it when he spoke to her in that stiff, condescending tone, even though she deserved his anger. “You don’t understand. They threatened to ruin you, buy your loan and then call it in. You and Marc would’ve lost everything,” she protested, trying to defend herself.
Stopping at a red light, he swiveled to face her. “And had you come to me and told me that, I could’ve told you our loan is held by a good buddy from the Army and a frequent guest at the lodge. Jeremy not only owns the small bank he manages, but he would never betray us that way. Your parents can’t buy a loan that isn’t for sale.”