Just for Fun (30 page)

“No more?” She wasn’t aware of any hotel chains that had closed. “What were they called?”

He wrote on his pad of paper again.

When he held it up she knew her mouth dropped open.

“Wyatt-Morris?”

He nodded with a frown.

She wasn’t sure what to say. Wyatt-Morris hotels were still huge. In fact, there were a lot more than sixty now. Hadn’t Doug told her his dad’s business partner had taken his half of the company after his stroke? Doug Miller Senior had been half of Wyatt-Morris? She was amazed.

“Hang on.” She went to the kitchen and grabbed the laptop computer off the table. Then she got back on the couch, tucked her feet under her and started typing.

The Our History tab on the Wyatt-Morris company website told the story. Well, at least some of the story. Not how Phillip Wyatt had stolen half the company from an incapacitated Douglas Miller, but it did talk about how Doug and Phillip’s grandparents had started the hotel chain and handed it down, and how the two men had tripled the size of the chain in only nine years prior to and the staggering amount of money they had each been worth at the time of their “split”.

She looked up at Senior. “Wow.”

He shrugged.

She closed the laptop. “Do you miss it?”

He shrugged again. “Some,” he got out.

She smiled at him. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you. I would have been picking your brain for secrets and ideas about how to make Britton bigger and better.”

Senior motioned with his hand for her to go on. She shifted on the couch cushion. “You want to hear some ideas?” she asked.

He nodded.

Okay, what the hell? She told him about her ideas for the customized guest experience and then threw in some things she and Todd had talked with Jonathan about.

Doug Senior held up the pad of paper.
Bed and Breakfast.

“A bed and breakfast?” she said out loud. “What do you mean?”

“Do it,” he said, then pointed to the paper.

“They do sound more like a B & B thing, don’t they?” Customizing ten guest experiences versus hundreds at once was a lot more reasonable. “But I don’t work in a bed and breakfast.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I…” Had always imagined herself in a fancy hotel surrounded by the luxury and style she’d always associated with the hotel industry, “…don’t know anything about bed and breakfasts,” she finally finished. But what did that mean? It wasn’t that she didn’t know about them. It was that she didn’t picture herself there. Bed and breakfasts were quaint and small and homey. Not ritzy. Not filled with marble and crystal.

She looked out the front window of Doug’s house. A bed and breakfast was like this place. Comfortable, warm, welcoming. Like tuna casserole. While the Britton was like her townhouse—decorated by an expert, no expense spared in furnishing it with the best of everything. It was like…lobster and prime rib.

It was strange how different lobster and tuna could be when they both qualified as seafood.

Senior tapped the page where he’d written
Bed and Breakfast
again, then pointed at her and nodded.

An expert in the hotel industry was telling her she should consider a bed and breakfast? Sure. That was what she should do. She’d just let go of the need for a big, steady paycheck and benefits, which of course didn’t come with being self-employed. Not to mention the private jet, Egyptian cotton and fine china.

Of course, there was no rule that said Egyptian cotton and fine china weren’t allowed in a bed and breakfast. She could also have Jacuzzis and massages and…

No. Good grief, what was she thinking?

Every idea would have to be hers then. She’d have to come up with everything, implement everything, take a chance on everything.

Even if it would be fun to be in full control of decisions and customer service and policies and procedures, even if it would be a challenge to entice CEOs, political figures and entertainers coming to Omaha to stay in a B & B instead of a hotel, she could never part with the security of being with a big company that could weather the ups and downs of the market and economy.

Of course, she wouldn’t need the private jet if she wasn’t traveling for Britton…

Just then Senior threw up in the bowl.

By the time Lance made his stop at midnight, Doug Senior had thrown up twice and was in bed with a mild fever. Lance checked on him and then said he’d stay until Doug got home.

Morgan was already curled up on the couch under a warm blanket in another of Doug’s T-shirts and boxers. “I’m good here, Lance. I can handle this until he gets here. Lisa and Kaitlyn need you.”

Lance stood looking down at her, one hand on his hip. He gave her a half smile. “You’re in trouble, you know.”

She yawned and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“They’re impossible to get over. I should know. I’ve been a part of all of this for nine years.”

She smiled. Lance was an in-law but he was fully a part of the family. “Lucky you.”

He smiled. “Doug doesn’t let people get this close. He’s never let another woman meet his dad.”

She pushed herself up to sitting and hugged her arms around her knees. She’d assumed that, she supposed, on some level, but hearing someone confirm it made her heart thump. “He didn’t invite me in. Kevin did. But you think he’s okay with it?”

Lance’s grin grew as he pulled his keys from his pocket. “Let’s put it this way, Kevin’s never done that before and I wouldn’t leave you sleeping on the couch if I wasn’t sure he was okay with it.”

She watched the door shut, settled down further under the blanket and sighed. It felt good here. Too good. Like it might feel to be curled up in a quaint, cozy bed and breakfast…

Five minutes later she was pulled out of her doze by the chirp of her cell phone.

She stretched her arm toward the coffee table, trying not to let the blanket slip down her shoulder. She was warm and content and was not willing to let go of either of those feelings.

She peered at the text message with only one eye open. It was from Doug.

Predictably, her heart tripped.

Heard you’re staying over.

Okay, so he’d heard. From Lance? Probably. Or Lisa. Did he know his dad was sick?

You need more toothpaste,
she typed back.

I appreciate you staying with Dad.

Then before she could respond he sent
I don’t appreciate you using up my toothpaste.

Grinning, she typed back,
Happy to do it.
Then she paused for just a moment before she typed,
Besides, I like sleeping naked in your bed.

It wasn’t even ten seconds before she got
Are you touching yourself and thinking of me?

She should have known better than to start something like that with Doug. She scrunched under the blanket further, feeling hot and happy at the same time.
Of course.

Good, ’cuz that’s what I’m picturing.

Definitely hot. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She wanted to tell him she was hot and wet, imagining his cock…

She was jerked away from the delicious daydream by his next message.

I have a surprise for you in the drawer of my bedside table
.

Oh, boy.

She quickly pushed the blanket back and hurried down the hall to his room.
Aren’t you at work?
she typed as she walked.

Which is why I’m texting and not calling. Did you find it?

She pulled the drawer open and gasped. Inside was a purple dildo. A big purple dildo. A huge purple dildo to be exact—that vibrated and rotated according to the package.

Um
was all she could type back.

I know it’s small compared to what you’re used to.

She laughed. Only Doug.

She tossed the vibrator on the bed and slipped down the hall to Senior’s room. He was sound asleep just as she’d left him. She felt his forehead and he felt cooler. Okay, this was good.

The moment she stepped into Doug’s room her phone chirped again.

No using it without telling me about it.

Warmth curled through her and she barely resisted giggling. She slipped out of the T-shirt and boxers and under the covers of his bed.

Where should I start?
she asked.

Are your nipples hard?

Now they were. She cupped her breast with the hand not holding the phone and rubbed over the hard tip.
Yes.

Are you wet?

She was. But she knew Doug would have used his fingers to be sure. She slid her hand down over her stomach to her mound, then between her folds. Her eyes closed as the pad of her finger slid over her clit. Imagining Doug there with her, that it was his big finger touching her, made her moan softly.

Her phone beeped again.

Forcing her eyes open she read
If I close my eyes I can imagine how hot and wet and sweet you are.

That made her even hotter and wetter.
If I close my eyes I can feel your tongue on me
she typed back one-thumbed.

There was a long pause and she wondered if she’d surprised him.

The next text relieved her of that idea.
Damn, girl, I’m hard enough to drive nails.

Are you touching yourself too?
she asked. She imagined it anyway. Picturing his hand wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down, she slipped two fingers into her body. She’d done this a few times but never like this, never with someone else knowing about it, right there with her step by step.

I want to but I’m not alone.

She circled her clit again and took a deep breath.
I wish you could be here. I need your hands and your mouth.

It wasn’t easy typing with one thumb but she couldn’t stop touching herself now.

I wish I could be there too. But you don’t need me. Make yourself come.

She could fake it. There would be no way for him to know if she had done it or not. But she wanted to do it. Not just because she was wound up and wanted the release, but because it felt so intimate to be doing this with him.

I’m going to use the present.

Good. Turn it up high.

She grabbed the dildo and immediately turned it on, pressing it where she wished she could have Doug’s tongue. The vibrations immediately shot heat and tingles through her body and her knees parted.

Is your clit begging? Are you imagining me sucking on you? I am.

All she could do was gasp.

I can taste you now. I love licking deep, then flicking over your clit, then sucking you in against my tongue.

Holy… She pulled in a deep breath and slid the tip up and down the way Doug’s tongue would slide.

Now slide it inside. I’m picturing it stretching you wide. I can feel how hot and slick you are.

The vibrator was thick and long. She imagined it was Doug as she slid it low and inside.

I love the way you grip on to me like you never want me to leave. When I thrust in and out I feel like you’re sucking me in deeper and deeper.

The vibrator wasn’t as good as Doug. It wasn’t as hot and in spite of its size she didn’t feel the thrusts all the way to her toes. She missed his moans and the flex of his back and butt muscles, his scratchy jaw against hers, his deep kisses.

But this wasn’t terrible. Not terrible at all.

I wish I could be there, to see it stroking you deep, to hear you come, calling my name.

The vibrations rocked her deep and she dropped the phone onto the comforter. The next thrust hit
that
spot and she came, gasping Doug’s name.

She lay, trying to catch her breath for several seconds before grabbing the phone.

Damn you’re good,
she typed.

His reply was almost immediate.
Yes, I am.

She laughed softly.
Wake me up when you get home.

Keep the vibrator close.

Her toes curled.
You want to watch me use it?

Damn right.

Her toes curled a lot.
Will we have time?

I take it as a personal challenge to prove I can make you come again in whatever time we have.

It wasn’t like it ever took him very long.

I’ll get the stopwatch ready too.

Brat.

I love you.

The second she hit send she cringed.
Crap
. It had been hot and playful and sexy. Now she’d gone and made it all serious—

I love you too.

And wonderful.

Morgan watched as the third interview of the afternoon crossed the lobby and left the hotel. She rubbed the middle of her forehead. Damn, this was harder than she’d anticipated.

She interviewed people all the time. She was great at reading people. She was an expert at this stuff. Hence, the fantastic staff she employed at the Britton.

Hence the fact that none of the people she’d interviewed to help out with Doug’s dad had left her office with the job.

Of course, hiring someone to help take care of a man she cared about, to help the man she loved… Well, that was a little different than hiring someone to answer the hotel phone.

But it was necessary. After seeing and hearing Lisa so exhausted and feeling so guilty two nights ago, Morgan really wanted to do something. Of course, Doug should be part of this decision. As should Doug Senior. But Doug was swamped. He had too much going on. Surely she could at least narrow down the candidates, weed out the definite no’s. There had to be a hundred nurses and therapists in this city who would love spending some time with Doug Senior for big bucks.

What she hadn’t known before starting this search was that she was going to be incredibly hard to impress.

She’d gotten several calls after her community contacts put her in touch with the best home health agency in town. Some of the callers were women who had worked as home health aides. She was sure they knew what they were doing, but they were unlicensed and Morgan’s list of criteria included a degree in healthcare.