Secret Bet (House of Morgan #3)

She added butter to her croissant. "So are we going to float in the ocean all day or at some point do we head back to Miami?"

"The Bahamas have some nice shopping."

"I didn't pack my passport."

His dimples showed. He stood and strode across the room. "That's disappointing. Hold on. I'll call my captain."

She shook her head. "You're sweet."

As she waited, she nibbled on her croissant. She swallowed. The bread was soft and dewy and freshly made. She swallowed the whole thing, and she wiped her mouth has he returned to his seat.

"Done. I cancelled our private beach villa morning. We'll head back to Miami now. As my date tonight, there are expectations. Will you allow my handlers to ensure everything is picture perfect for tonight?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Handlers?"

"They keep my name clean in the press. I want to avoid negative publicity as much as possible."

One of the reasons she wanted to go with him was to seem unaffected. She'd never cry about her own silly heart if she was surrounded. She gulped her coffee. "Okay."

Again he had those sexy dimples. Rich men shouldn't be granted good looks. It was a double whammy. She held out her cup, and the blasted man had manners enough to refill it as he asked, "The Biltmore will know the Morgan Enterprise people."

"I'm not staying there."

"Why not? It's where we put up all the out of town guests."

"I didn't know I was coming."

"What hotel are you staying at?"

Her hands shook as she held the saucer. She tried to hide it and gazed out the window again. "The Extended Stay."

The glass reflected the frown on his face and read his opinion perfectly. "I'll change your hotel. You should be with the rest of the wedding guests."

Her hotel suited her needs. She was perfectly fine, but her voice sounded like a chipmunk as she asked, "What?"

"I can't have my date return to some place unacceptable. My mother already disappeared. My sister faked her death. The last thing I need is more women who up and disappear. So jot down your room number and I’ll have my people move you."

All that information overload meant she didn't register anything about his mother or sister. It was all a blur, though she tried to see through it. "You can't buy me Peter."

"We all have our price tags on what we'll compromise on. The rest of the day isn't about buying favors for you. This is about ensuring everyone at my sister's wedding is taken care of. I'm still the selfish jerk I always was. Don't forget that part."

She placed her coffee on the table and scratched her head. "I don't understand."

"You will. See you tonight. Accept the dress for the one I ruined on you and the rest of the stuff you need to be my date."

"I can get my own dress."

"You and I don't live in the same worlds. Don't think of anything as more than armor to protect yourself, like the uniform you must have worn in the Marines."

"I do go to parties in DC with senators and representatives a lot."

"Those people all service men like me, Belle. Let my staff do its job so you're comfortable with the cameras."

"Okay, I guess." She feigned interest in her nails and wrote her hotel information on a slip of paper, though she couldn't stop her question. "Are you sure you're real?"

"Don't worry. There is always a catch with me, and for you it's a kiss."

He sipped his coffee and bit into the croissant like he hadn't said something monumental. She picked up her cup and accepted that near Peter Morgan her heart beat faster, but it wasn't fear. She sipped her cup. "We’ve had progress, you and I.”

“We have?”

“Sure. I'm not anxious near you anymore, so that's good, but I also don't promise anything else."

He brushed the outline of his morning beard that he hadn't shaved yet. "Belle, there is something fascinating about you."

“You keep using that word when you talk about me.” She crossed her arms. She should have been clearer. "Either way though, that kiss probably won't happen."

"We'll see. Probably means I still have a chance."

"Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I learned hope from you.” He didn't say anything else and her heart raced with the truth. He might be right. For a moment she hoped he'd rip off her shirt and kiss her hard, right now. She sipped her coffee. This fantasy about Peter was new. She had never expected to become attracted to him, but there was no way, she’d let fantasy interfere with cold hard reality.





Chapter Seven


As the yacht docked, Belle held out her hand to shake, but Peter reached in for a hug. Her body tingled, and she couldn't figure out what to do. She hadn't hugged him. Instead she patted his back, but she didn't quite know how far to reach across him to give him a hug.

Her heartbeat grew erratic. Finally she settled on keeping her arms from touching him, and the unsteadiness made her lightheaded. In the end, she pressed her arm behind his shoulders.

As he let go, she prayed her face didn't show a huge blush. Most of his women probably knew how to hug.

She brushed her hair behind her ear as he said, "See you tonight. I'll pick you up from your hotel."

“Yeah. There is a problem.” Her entire body was hot and steamy, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. She fanned herself and licked her lips. "I don't know where I'm going."

He squeezed her hand. "Let my limo driver take you. I took care of all the details."

"Of course you did. It sounds like a master plan that you have in your playbook."

“Believe me, Belle, with you, the playbook is being completely rewritten.”

She sat there, unsure how to respond. It might be surly if she took it all back now.

He winked. "I told you what I want from you."

She gritted her teeth and tried not to imagine what his kiss would taste like. "Somehow, I think there is more to your interest in me, but I don't want to know what it is."

"We all have imaginations."

She sniffed the air as the scent of oak washed through her, and then she swallowed. "What are you plans for the day without me then?"

"I have to go to work, but then I'll get ready at home. I’ll be at your hotel at eight o’clock."

“I’ll meet you downstairs then.” This was the worst idea of her life. Her friends would see her sitting with one of the richest men in the world and think she had gone off the deep end. Her pulse grew fast, though she rolled her shoulders and neck. "I don't know anything about you. This might not be a good idea."

“You know enough, probably more than most people on their first date.” He patted her arm. "So live a little, Belle Jordan."

"I'll figure you out, Peter."

"Not much to analyze."

Her mouth grew moist like she'd ask for a kiss. She hugged her stomach and glanced at the limo door. "You could probably have anyone that crosses your path. We don't make sense."

He tried to meet her gaze, but she avoided him. "Have faith."

"Faith and I aren't exactly on the best terms."

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