Just for Fun (16 page)

He looked from her lips to her eyes and found her watching him with wide eyes lit with a combination of panic and incredulity.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, frowning at him and pulling the sheet tighter across her breasts.

Well, he hadn’t been lying to her. He could have been more sensitive in how he said it, but it was all true.

“I’m just saying when you’re on top, successful, popular, there’s more of a chance of something going wrong. People are going to be targeting you as the competition because you’re getting the raises and promotions they want. People are, of course, targeting Britton because this is a huge company. Others in the business would like nothing better than to see you—and Britton—fail. That’s a risk of being successful.”

Her frown had deepened. “So I should just stay in Omaha at the hotel because it’s safer?”

“In some ways.”

“Trust me,” she said. “Being safe and secure and stable are all my main objectives. Money provides those things.”

“Money is the worst thing to depend on. Sometimes—”

“I know all about money and what it can and can’t do,” she interrupted. “I loved the fun, frivolous, extravagant things my dad was always spending money on. But I hated watching my mom get mad and worry and work her ass off to make up for it. So I decided a long time ago I was going to have fun too, but I was going to be damned sure I could afford it.”

Her cheeks were flushed and she was gripping the sheet against her heart. Dooley was enthralled. Not that she was upset, but by her obvious passion for the subject.

“When I was fourteen my dad woke us up in the middle of the night and took us on a surprise trip to the mountains,” she said. “It was awesome and spontaneous and fun. Then it came time for going back to school and we couldn’t afford new clothes, so the first two months I had to wear worn out jeans and shirts we got as hand-me-downs from my snotty cousin, Kaylee. I hated the idea that we couldn’t have fun
and
have the things we needed. Hated it. Hated watching Mom work an extra job. Hated seeing Dad’s disappointment when a surprise or gift would make Mom cry because we’d be further in debt. I also hated the year Dad decided to finally listen to Mom and not do anything spontaneous and fun. That sucked.”

Morgan was staring at her lap and Dooley had no idea what to say.

Dammit, it was sucking him in, but he couldn’t help it—he liked talking to her, listening to her, learning more about her.

“So your dad’s idea of fun was big, crazy stuff?” he asked.

She smiled. “He was always fun. But he liked to spoil us. He liked to make us smile and give us good memories and he tended to go overboard. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand money and debt and everything, but I think he just believed life’s too short and you can’t take it with you and he’d worry about it later. But Mom worried about it right then. The truth was, their financial situation simply did not support the lifestyle he wanted to have.”

She sighed. “They’re still in debt. He works, but changes jobs periodically. They have little savings, no retirement fund. Stuff like that. So, like I said, I was determined I was not going to be in that position myself. I intend to have fun, enjoy things, have nice stuff and I’m going to be sure I can afford it.” She looked over at him. “Maybe that sounds superficial or stuck-up, but I also give money to my parents and to charity. I work hard. I paid my way through college. So I think it’s okay to want and have nice things. That doesn’t make me a bad person.”

Dooley knew he was staring, but he couldn’t look away from her. She had been gorgeous from minute one. Now she was beautiful, with that proud, determined look on her face, that confident, intelligent look in her eyes and the way she met his gaze directly, challenging him to judge her. She was a hard worker who loved her parents and gave money to charity.

He was a goner.

“I need to know something,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “What?”

“Is the sex so amazing with you because this is the best bed I’ve ever been on, or is it you? This is way beyond the elevator at the fundraiser.”

She looked surprised for only a moment. Then she smiled. “I think I know how to find out.”

“Yeah?”

“One of your texts mentioned bending me over the couch.”

As every drop of blood re-routed to his cock, all Dooley could think was,
Yep, definitely a goner.

The next morning Dooley woke before Morgan did.

Thank God.

If she so much as rolled over and smiled at him, he’d want to have her again.

He wanted to anyway, but he wasn’t going to wake her up for it. Probably. Still, he had to leave the suite to be sure.

Damn, the woman was messing with him. This was supposed to be a fun weekend fling. It had certainly been fun. But it wasn’t supposed to be anything more. He wasn’t even supposed to like her, really. No, he wasn’t supposed to know her well enough to like her or not.

But not only was he getting to know her, he was starting to like her and he wanted her even more now that he’d had her.

As he pulled on his swimming trunks he was careful not to look in the direction of the bed and was thankful for the weird sleep patterns that kept him from getting more than five hours of sleep no matter what time he hit the pillow. It was a hazard of the night shift and of living with someone who was dependent on him at all hours.

This morning he was particularly thankful for not sleeping long and deep. He needed to get some space from Morgan. This was hardly a relaxing, laid-back vacation weekend at this point.

In fact, he was damned revved up.

He grabbed clothes for after his swim, not willing to risk coming back to the suite for at least a couple of hours. Jonathan had said something last night about wanting them to work for the day and then meet with him at four. Surely she’d be waking soon and getting to work. Somewhere other than the suite.

If not, he was going to have to find something to do in the great city of Chicago. Knowing she was in the suite, with the bed, the couch and the Jacuzzi they’d made good use of last night, would make him nuts.

He swam, pushing through a half hour workout without rest. Then he sat on the side of the pool, catching his breath. His thoughts went immediately to the redhead who was somewhere on the premises. Which was enough to put him back in the water for another twenty minutes.

It was stupid stuff that consumed his mind too.

It wasn’t the exquisite feel of sinking into her from behind as she gasped and asked for more. It wasn’t the way she’d ridden him while he sat in the Jacuzzi, her breasts bouncing as she lifted herself up and down in the bubbling water. It wasn’t the way her back fit against his front perfectly as they lay in bed together.

It was the way she laughed. It was the way she had trustingly left her hand in his as he’d pulled her out of the hotel and into the bowling alley. It was the way she pulled the left half of her bottom lip between her teeth while she listened to Jonathan talking about the business.

He wanted to know what she liked for breakfast, if she brushed her teeth first or last in her morning routine, how long doing her hair actually took.

Fuck
.

Dooley headed for the restaurant. He was going to eat a big, slow, breakfast. He was going to order whatever would take the longest to prepare. He was going for a walk after breakfast too. He was also going to have the front desk call up to the suite to see if she was gone before he went back up there.

Not because he was afraid of tearing off her clothes and putting her right back on the bed but because he was afraid he was going to
talk
to her.

This was a damned mess.

He rounded the corner to the dining room and came to a stop.

Of course. The restaurant offered a breakfast buffet.

There would be no stalling with the preparation anyway. He could still eat slowly.

He was loading his plate with hash browns when Jonathan Britton came up beside him. “Good morning.”

Dooley gave him a smile. “Morning.”

“Morgan isn’t with you?” Jonathan asked, reaching for the bacon.

“Sleeping late,” Dooley said simply.

“Then join me,” Jonathan said, gesturing toward the table that already had a pitcher of orange juice and a coffee carafe on it.

“Are you sure?” Dooley asked. “I’d hate to intrude.” He was wearing a T-shirt that said
I’m multi-talented: I can talk and piss you off at the same time
, along with another pair of jeans. Jonathan was in a suit and tie, though his jacket hung on the back of the chair at the table.

“Of course I’m sure. I often have business associates over for breakfast but nothing today. I’d appreciate the company.”

Dooley followed the other man to the table and took the seat across from him. After they’d each filled their coffee cups and taken the first bite Dooley asked, “Do you want to talk business or sports?”

Jonathan sipped his coffee and studied him. Then said, “Business.”

“Your business or mine?”

Jonathan set his cup down. “Will it seem egotistical if I say mine?”

Dooley smiled. “It would seem egotistical if you assumed I had nothing to say about yours.”

Jonathan gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “You’re a guest in my hotel. I would love to hear any thoughts you have.”

“All right,” Dooley began, liberally dousing his scrambled eggs with hot sauce. “I appreciate you wanting to hear from your guests. I think that’s great. But there are some other people right here under your nose who could give you a lot of insight.”

Jonathan dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “I’m listening.”

“Your employees,” Dooley said. “Did you know Roger, the concierge, has worked for you for twenty-five years?”

“Yes.” Jonathan buttered his toast. “I’m aware, and appreciative, of Roger’s years of service.”

“I think Roger might have a few ideas for you, sir. I’ll bet he’s overheard everything from the highest praise to the biggest complaints about your hotel. I’m sure he knows how to make your employees happy as well. Which is important because, as I’m sure you know, in a hotel, happy employees make happy guests.”

Jonathan was chewing as he watched Dooley.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and picked up his coffee cup. “I don’t suppose you’re related to the Douglas Miller who was a part of the Wyatt-Morris hotel chain for years?” Jonathan asked.

Dooley knew he should have expected this. Jonathan Britton had been in the business a long time and knew everyone. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Douglas Miller, Senior, is my father.”

Jonathan nodded. “I thought so. Plus I did some checking on you.”

Dooley smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“I didn’t check on you because of the hotel,” Jonathan said.

“Because of Morgan?”

“Yes.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Dooley said honestly. Anyone who cared about Morgan was good in his book.

“So, you have some insight into my hotels?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes. For what it’s worth.”

Jonathan signaled for the waitress. “Amy, I’m going to need a notebook and a pen, please.”

Morgan spent the day in the offices, pulling data, making graphs and spreadsheets and meeting with anyone who might have valuable input to her project. She was going full-speed ahead with her idea about customized guest experiences with everything from menus to the soap guests found in their bathrooms.

Furthermore, she planned to present her idea to Jonathan by preparing one of the hotel rooms according to
his
personal preferences to show him what it could be like.

That meant also meeting with his personal assistant and other staff who might know his favorite foods, colors and routines. It wasn’t as easy as having someone fill out a pre-stay questionnaire, but she was pleased with how much the people around him knew about what he liked.

She had a lunch menu prepared with a corned beef sandwich and potato salad, the bed made up in a maroon and cream bedding, Frank Sinatra playing on the stereo and two tickets to one of his favorite places, the Chicago Planetarium, laid out on the coffee table.

The whole thing would have been a lot easier if she had been able to concentrate fully.

Instead her mind kept wandering to Doug.

She’d been disappointed to wake up alone. Disappointed and sore. But the soreness made her smile. As she rolled over and stretched, every moment of getting sore played back in her mind making her tingly and hot.

The night had been amazing. It had been as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She’d loved every minute. He’d been hot and dirty and delicious. There had been no rose petals, no candlelight, no sweet words. Everything had been sexy and erotic. He’d told her, graphically, how she made him feel and what he wanted from her. He’d made her say bold things, loudly, and make sounds she’d never imagined.

It had made her feel powerful to affect him so strongly and weak with want at the same time.

Even now, after everything, her body heated and started humming just thinking about him.

It hadn’t been all sex either. He’d played with her hair a lot. Even after the shampoo conversation, he’d seem enthralled by her hair. He’d listened to stories about her sister, asked what music she liked and discussed how brilliant Robert Downey Jr. was as Sherlock Holmes. He’d also told her about the youth center where he spent time as well as a lot about his friends and sisters.

All in all, he’d made himself nearly irresistible and her even more sure that she wanted to continue things after they got back to Omaha. Julia Roberts hadn’t even had it as good as Doug would.

She’d decided to work through lunch so she could finish and get back to the room sooner, but she did take a break to eat and make a phone call.

While he’d been in the bathroom last night, she’d quickly scanned the contacts in his phone and found Kevin’s number.

She knew his best friends were Kevin, Sam, Ben and Mac but it seemed he talked most about Kevin. She was sure any of his friends could answer her question though.