Shenanigans (Pretense and Promises Book 2) Page 4

  Francis, the man with black hair, raised an eyebrow but it was Bill who said, “Ah, is this fair young lady your fiancée? How much did you have to pay her to say that, Hammond?”

  God, if these sons of bitches only knew. But he wasn’t about to divulge that to these two assholes. And as upset as he’d been to see Morgan chatting with them, he felt a little appeased when she said, “Are you kidding? Conor’s the best man I’ve ever known. He didn’t have to ask me twice.” She slid out of the booth and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Damn. He’d have to give her a raise for thinking on her feet. “I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.” She looked back at Bullock and Mills. “So did you go to school with these guys, honey?”

  “Actually, yeah, I did. So I guess you’ll be seeing more of them tomorrow.” He turned to make eye contact with his old nemeses again. “You guys living here nowadays?”

  “No. Are you kidding? We’re in Colorado Springs running a construction company.”

  Running a company? He’d never imagined these two amounting to much of anything, let alone running a company, because they’d never seemed to apply themselves…so he was dubious, tending instead to believe that they were into some kind of petty crime. But he wasn’t going to let them know he doubted them—because, in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. He’d left all this shit behind twenty years ago.

  Hadn’t he?

  They would be a distant memory in less than a week.

  “Nice. Well, see you guys at the reunion.” To Morgan, he asked, “Ready?”

  “Yep.” She picked up her glass and slurped the last of the iced tea through the straw before pulling some dollar bills out of her purse. “Can I trust you guys to leave these there?” Bill looked like he was going to say something when Morgan said, “Just messin’ with ya.”

  Ah…she was good, better than he would have expected. She had no idea the beautiful way she was setting them up and knocking them down. It was just like high school—only reversed. He could’ve kissed her then—but that would have been creepy. It was weird enough putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked out to the rental car.

  Once they were out on the sidewalk, he said, “Ready to check in?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t visit your parents for very long.”

  “Mom tends to be a little neurotic. Plus, since my sister was over there, the novelty wore off quickly.” Once they got to the car, Conor said, “Thank you, by the way. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m not a big Bill or Francis fan.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  Conor snapped in his seat belt. “I say, after the long day, we settle in and call some room service. Sound good?”

  “Room service? Don’t you want to take me out to a nice restaurant?”

  Starting up the car, he looked behind him before he said, “No. I’m going to have to deal with way too many of these fools come tomorrow evening, so I don’t want to accidentally run in to anyone else before that. And I’m going to have to go back to my parents’ house tomorrow afternoon to get that over with. Besides, you might not know it, but the hotel where we’re staying is the finest dining you’ll get in this burg.”

  The look on her face as he began driving forward told him she didn’t believe him—but he didn’t care. Once she saw the menu, she’d figure it out soon enough.

  * * *

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Conor was handing a few bills to the bellhop who’d brought their luggage up to the suite. First, Morgan gasped at how opulent the place looked and then, as she ran across the room and opened the door to the balcony, she marveled at the view. The Sedgwick had some of the best views of the mountains, but the ultimate sights were from its top floors—which was why Conor had sprung extra for the room he’d reserved earlier in the week. Honestly, that close to the reunion, he was lucky there were any free rooms at all.

  It didn’t hurt that all the cheaper rooms had already been booked—thanks to the reunion, no doubt. But Morgan didn’t need to know that.

  Closing the door, Conor turned to face Morgan—usually snarky, witty, quick, and sophisticated—and she looked at him, wide-eyed, her voice filled with an innocent quality that stirred up a strange feeling in his belly. “This place is amazing.”

  “I knew you’d like it.”

  She zipped off again in the other direction to check out the rest of their digs. As Conor searched the place for a USB port so he could charge his phone, she darted back in the main room with her face looking half-surprised, half irritated. “There’s only one bedroom, Conor.”

  “Oh, yeah, that. Appearances, Morgan. I doubt anyone from the reunion will be up here, but you never know. One bed looks like an engaged couple. Two don’t. But don’t worry—I plan to sleep on the couch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I want you to enjoy the full experience.”

  Grinning, Morgan darted back into the bedroom but seconds later, when Conor had finally located a port on the phone in the living area, she rushed in and grabbed her overstuffed suitcase. “I’m going to unpack.”

  Conor wouldn’t have minded just living out of his luggage, but he needed to hang up a couple of things. As for the formal thing the reunion committee had going on tomorrow night, he’d get his old tux out of his old bedroom closet at his parents’ house. He thought the whole formal-wear thing was silly, but if he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound. Fortunately, Morgan told him she’d already prepared.

  He walked toward the bedroom, checking out the place along the way. He could see why Morgan had been a little excited. She came from a middle-class background just like he did, so a place like this was a little ritzier than they would have been used to growing up. Nowadays, though, he was a little jaded and couldn’t get excited about something as superficial this.

  The door was open, but he rapped on it to get her attention. “Mind if I grab a few hangers? I’ll still need to borrow part of the closet.”

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Morgan already had her suitcase open and an ironing board set up, the iron heating patiently. While she waited, she was busy putting items in drawers or the closet—or setting aside items to take to the bathroom later.

  When Conor got to the closet, he saw no less than seven pairs of shoes on the floor. “Do we have a shoe addiction?”

  Morgan glanced over at him from the dresser. “I’m a woman. Of course, I have a thing for shoes.”

  “And what’s with all the red in here? I think I’m beginning—”

  “Don’t you even say it,” Morgan said, glaring, picking up a red sneaker and threatening to whack him in the head with it.

  Teasing, he said, “Sensitive,” and left the room. He fished out the shirts and slacks he’d rolled up in the luggage, ones designed to need less pressing than others. As he took one of the shirts out, he noticed a few wrinkles, so he knew he’d have to do a little ironing before wearing it. Maybe when Morgan finished with hers. Lost in thought, he tossed them on the sofa but the big binder with information about local attractions and restaurants on the desk caught his eye. It was a little surreal staying in a hotel in his hometown, viewing it as an outsider, and he started wondering why he hadn’t just stayed at his mom and dad’s house.

  Mom was neurotic. That was why. And probably too worried that he didn’t have a real fiancée.

  Flipping through the pages of the binder, he was reminded of some awesome places to eat, and the memories flooded his mind. There was no sense denying Morgan a little bit of fun because, beginning tomorrow night, she was going to be on the clock nonstop. If it was still in business, there was a really nice steak and seafood place just a few blocks from the hotel. Or they could eat at the restaurant in the hotel like he’d suggested before, but he considered leaving it up to Morgan after all.

  He walked back in her room to hang up his clothes and said, “I hope you didn’t eat too many rolls at Betty’s Bakery.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll take you out to eat.”


  Even though her eyes lit up, she said, “That’s okay, Conor. I know you didn’t want to go out.”

  “Nah. I want to. Just be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He wasn’t wearing anything spectacular but, really, he didn’t need to. There’d never been an expected dress code at that restaurant, aside from the no shirt, no shoes rule. So he wandered around their suite, noting all the things they wouldn’t be using: the little kitchenette, the big screen TV, and the fireplace (wrong time of year)—although, if they used the pool or the hot tub downstairs, they might decide a fire would be nice. He was flipping through the little HBO guide, considering switching the television on while he waited, until he heard her say, “Ready.”

  Conor was a little shocked. Morgan tended to dress in either office casual or pantsuits when they had a high-profile meeting. Now, though, she was wearing a black skirt that stopped above her knees and a red top that clung to her upper body enough that he was able to recognize her feminine features.

  And tall red high heels.

  Holy shit.

  “You like?”

  “Yeah. You look great.” Maybe a little too great, because now Conor was forced to accept the fact that Morgan was a living, breathing woman. A woman and not just his assistant or friend.

  He managed to keep any and all comments to himself until the valet driver brought the car back around. Once Conor was driving them out onto the street, he couldn’t help himself and said, “By the way…those shoes make your legs look sexy.”

  * * *

  Morgan hadn’t blushed since her freshman year in high school—and the kids, friends and foe alike, had ridiculed her for how red her face had turned, and she’d vowed to never let the emotions of shame or embarrassment color her cheeks again. It was probably that moment that had transformed her into the Queen of Snark oh, so long ago. Not only had she taken up sarcasm like a coat of armor, but she’d also become artful at turning situations around. If a kid tried to embarrass her, she’d double down and lay it on thicker than anyone else ever could.

  Of course, shortly after that, her classmates seemed to mature and back off, too…but it was too late. She’d grown to love and embrace that part of herself.

  Now, though, she was looking out the passenger window seemingly at the street—while actually pondering Conor’s words. Had he really said that—that her legs looked sexy?

  And why the hell was she feeling a little excited by that?

  She knew damn good and well why. When she’d started working for Conor several years ago, she’d first noticed his subtly handsome good looks. And then his demanding, sometimes assholish nature would anger and excite her at the same time. But it wasn’t long before she realized he was married to his business and enjoyed playing a perpetual playboy. The occasional date seemed to be all he’d need to keep his single status in check. Morgan, realizing this and seeing that her low-key flirting didn’t work (all while knowing that outright flirting could jeopardize her job), had finally given up and pursued other males—eventually, the crush disappeared. Problem solved.

  Except it apparently hadn’t.

  But maybe she could push it back again. Once the weekend was over, she could return to business as usual, just like she had years ago.

  “So, those guys back at the bakery.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Enemies in high school, right? The only class we had together was Business Law, and it was clear to me back then that they were just jerking off. But then, ten years ago, they showed up at the reunion as owners of a new startup back east. They’d invented what they called an environmentally friendly dishwasher. It was portable, almost like a microwave, and you could install it under your counter or place it on a countertop. I swear to Christ, that’s all those guys talked about—and all our classmates flocked around them like they were the best thing since sliced bread.

  “When we all returned to our respective homes, they posted on Facebook that the company who bought their invention also chose not to produce it—supposedly. But it didn’t matter. The popular guys stole the show. Jerking off, as usual. I’d been hoping to reconnect with the few friends I’d had and wound up getting to know a bunch of people I’d never hung with before. But the problem, I realized later, was that a lot of the women wanted to get cozy because I had money and my own business—and, unlike Bill and Francis, I was perceived as a nice guy. But it got even worse after the reunion. When everybody got home and started checking out my profile, they found out that I was no slouch—and then more people friended me and started messaging, wanting to ask if they were driving through California if they could swing by.”

  “That’s why you’re hardly on Facebook anymore?”

  “Exactly.”

  And she wasn’t going to ask, but she’d always gotten the feeling that Conor had been the ugly duckling in high school—one who’d bloomed into the beautiful swan she knew now. Actually, from what Conor had told her, it wasn’t that he was ugly at all…but that he had no confidence. He’d thought he was undesirable and, in believing it, made it come true.

  But he had transformed into the swan now—a hot, gorgeous swan, one that, once again, she was going to have a hard time getting over.

  Why the hell had he said anything about her sexy legs?

  Chapter Five

  FRIDAY MORNING, MORGAN came out of the bedroom, feeling like shit. She’d never slept well in a hotel room, and this time was no different. The bedding was crisp and clean, the mattress firm yet comfortable, the pillows fluffy and comfy. The air in the bedroom was perfect, too—just on the cool side but not cold. And none of that mattered a bit because she was trying to snooze in a strange place.

  But that wasn’t all of it—she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Conor in the most inappropriate of ways. He was her boss and it didn’t matter how hot he was, she had to get him off her mind.

  He was sprawled out on the couch and the sheet he’d been covered with had slipped down enough that she could see his entire torso—lovely hairless pecs, tight abs…and a tattoo. A fucking tattoo! How come Conor had never told her about that?

  At the risk of getting caught, Morgan tiptoed closer, hoping to get a look at it and maybe find out what it said—because, in the dim light of the room, she couldn’t quite tell. As she neared the couch, though, she was able to see the ink was mostly words.

  And that was when she ran into the coffee table.

  “Shit!”

  The actual noise of hitting the coffee table might not have awakened Conor, but her voice at the highest of decibels would.

  “What? What the hell?” Conor bolted upright. Morgan knew that he’d figure out pretty quickly if she stayed in place that she’d gone out of her way to check him out, because the pathway between the door to her bedroom and anything else in the suite did not get close to the couch. Not even remotely. The couch was out of the way of everything else.

  But she could come up with a quick explanation. “Sorry, Conor. I bumped into the coffee table and hurt my knee.”

  He was running a hand through his hair.

  Damn, those biceps.

  Morgan forced herself to walk it off, even though it hurt like hell, and she made her way toward the door. “Just checking to see if they left a paper in the hall like they said they would.”

  As she opened the front door and fetched said paper, she heard Conor say, “How long before you think you can be ready?”

  The reunion shit didn’t start till evening. “Ready for what?”

  “A day on the town. Coffee first. Then I’m going to show you around, let you see some of the sights. Oh, and we have to get my tux at my parents’ house.” Morgan dropped the paper on the coffee table, hoping her face wouldn’t betray just how un-fun all that sounded to her. “Since we’re engaged, I thought the proper thing to do would be to meet my parents.”

  “Uh…they do know we’re not actually engaged, right?”

  Conor laughed. �
��Yes, of course. And I promise we won’t be there forever but we’re friends, and I know they’d like to meet you.”

  “Fair enough, but why didn’t you just get your tux yesterday while you were there?”

  “My sister was visiting, so I just sat on the porch with them talking. She hadn’t seen me in a long time, and I thought it would be rude to make them follow my agenda. But there’s only so much time I can spend with her so, after a while, I told them I needed to track you down and mentioned that I’d be back today.”

  “How convenient.”

  “We won’t be there forever. Just long enough that, in the future, when I’m complaining about my pain-in-the-ass employee, they’ll have a face to put with the name.”

  Flipping him off and making him laugh again, Morgan turned on her heel and began walking toward the bathroom. “Fine. Before we go, I need a while to shower and stuff.”

  “Wait a sec. I need to take a quick piss.”

  She turned on the light and stepped inside the door, peeking her face out. “Guess you shoulda thought of that before calling me a pain in the ass. Now I have a reputation to protect.”

  And, with that, she shut and locked the door before turning on the shower full blast and hopping in.

  * * *

  “Fucking A. This little vacation of yours has completely thrown me off my game.”

  “What do you mean?” Conor asked.

  “I didn’t write a to do list this morning—for probably the first time in three years.”

  Conor laughed, taking a sip of the cup of Americano he’d ordered at the small coffee shop. Both were also picking at cinnamon rolls, not the healthiest breakfast, but—as Morgan had noted—they were taking a break from the usual. Fortunately, he’d taken a jog on the treadmill in the exercise room while Morgan was showering, and he’d been able to find a restroom along the way. Maybe Morgan was off her game, but Conor was on his and hoped to be scoring points tonight.

  He’d begun questioning why he wanted to go to this reunion anyway, because he’d already “proven” himself at the last one—and this time it was going to be a major pain since he and Morgan were playing the engagement game to keep the desperate women off him. Yeah, seeing his parents was always a plus, but he could take time off to visit them whenever he felt like it. But there was one reason why he really wanted to go. Aside from catching up with a few people he was interested in who weren’t on Facebook much, he also wanted to visit with his buddy Steve Powell. The two of them had been in a gaming club together until the middle of their junior year. Steve and a girl in the club had gotten pretty serious with each other and, if Conor remembered correctly, she’d gotten pregnant and Steve, being an upstanding guy, had started working nights to help pay for the baby—but the two of them didn’t actually get married until after Conor had left for college.