Someone To Watch Over Me (12 page)

***

Morgan removed the suitcase out of the closet
and set it on the top of her bed. Pack for a week. In thirty
minutes? Right, what had she'd been thinking?

First, she pulled the evening gown for the
fundraiser with the shoes and coordinating purse. Next, she focused
on the outfits she'd wear to work, slacks, blouses, and two
dresses. She added jeans, a pair of shorts and three light weight
cotton t-shirts for good measure. Then she opened her lingerie
drawer and stopped.

She stared at the silky items folded in the
dresser and realized she had three choices, none of which would
work. A short emerald green teddy edged with black lace sat on top.
Underneath laid a silk camisole with matching boxer style shorts in
dusty rose and a long gown in midnight blue. “Thanks Stella, I have
you to blame for this,” she whispered.

At her best friend’s urging, she had
overhauled everything. As her relationship with Brad became
exclusive, Stella masterminded a major shopping expedition to
replace oversized t-shirts and flannel pajama sets into something
more romantic.

“You can't let him see you in that,” Stella
exclaimed in mock horror when Morgan confided Brad would be
spending the night. The result was a whirlwind adventure through
lingerie departments of a few major department stores as well as
Victoria's Secret and Fredericks of Hollywood.

Morgan had to admit the shopping spree had
been fun. She didn't take long to rule out the cheesy stuff in
favor of pieces that were touchable and feminine. Now she had three
outfits to choose from, none of which she was comfortable wearing
at Shawn's place. Morgan toyed with the idea of pulling out some
sweats and a t-shirt but decided they’d be too hot to wear this
time of year. She went to the closet and pulled out a terry robe
which had seen better days and packed the rose camisole and boxer
style shorts.

“Do you need me to take anything to the car?”
Shawn asked.

Morgan whirled and found him waiting in the
doorway. She wondered how long he'd been standing there watching
her.

“Almost done, I need to pack my make-up but
you can take the suitcase on the bed and the evening gown if you
want.”

He walked over, picked up the items and
carried them down the hallway.

Morgan finished packing her tote bag, grabbed
her purse and had proceeded halfway down the hall before Shawn came
back and took the oversized canvas carryall from her.

“I've got this. Lock everything and set the
alarm,” he ordered.

Within minutes, they were on their way to
Stella's. After Morgan gave him directions, he turned on the radio
to a news station. She watched out the window. Spending the next
few days under the same roof with Shawn was going to be
awkward.

***

“You're early. I wasn't expecting you till
close to seven. Dinner won't be ready for...” Stella stopped and
stared at the silent couple on her doorstep. “What happened?”

Morgan flashed a feeble smile. “It's been a
long day.”

“Oh, that doesn't sound good. Come in. Can I
get you a drink?”

“Thanks, I'd love a glass of wine.” Morgan
replied quietly as she walked slowly toward the kitchen.

Stella turned to Shawn. “Is everything
okay?”

“Yeah, I think I'll pass on the wine. Do you
have beer?”

“Follow me.” Stella said.

Something had happened and by the expressions
on Morgan’s and Shawn’s faces it hadn’t been good. By the time
she'd reached the kitchen, Morgan had set out two glasses and
removed a bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator. Stella
watched without comment as her friend poured a modest amount in the
first glass and substantially more wine into the second one. After
placing the wine back in the fridge, Morgan picked up the second
glass and took a large gulp.

“Shawn, do you want a Budweiser or Coors?”
Stella asked.

“I'll take a Bud, thanks.”

She pulled a beer out of the fridge and
turned to Shawn. “Need a glass?”

“No, I'm good.” Shawn took the beer, popped
the can open and took several swallows. Stella glanced sideways at
Morgan. She'd set down the wineglass and stared out the kitchen
window.

If I wait one of them will say
something.
The silence continued for several more seconds and
neither appeared any closer to speaking. Stella tamped down the
urge to fidget, and picked up the second glass of wine which Morgan
had poured. “Okay, I give up. What went on today?”

Morgan shot a glance at Shawn.

“Go ahead. You tell her,” he said.

Morgan stoked the stem of the wineglass
between her thumb and forefinger. She took a deep breath and gazed
up at Stella. “We were followed this morning. My stalker left a
threatening letter on the SUV outside the TV station. Later at
Copper Creek, he laid a dead rabbit on the windshield and another
note.”

“Dear God.” Stella glanced over at Shawn and
he nodded.

“Then you've seen him. Did you recognize
him?”

“Yes, we saw him, and no, we don't know who
he is,” Shawn said. He then recounted a general physical
description of the stalker and his car.

Stella stared back at Morgan. “Are you sure
you've never seen him before?”

Morgan shook her head. “No. We didn't get a
close up of his face.”

“Well, how about a license number?”

“We don't have that either, right now,” Shawn
replied.

Stella didn’t know what to say. No wonder
they appeared exhausted when they arrived at her doorstep. “What
did the notes say?”

“He wants Shawn to leave me alone,” Morgan
said.

Stella set her wineglass down and gently
massaged her forehead with her fingers. “I'm sorry if I sound a
little dense, but this doesn't make sense. He’s stalking you, but
he leaves notes for Shawn? I don't understand.”

“I'm supposed to stay away from Morgan or
else. I think the roadkill rabbit on the windshield is a pretty
clear message of what ‘or else’ means.” Shawn took another gulp
from his beer.

Morgan added, “Shawn believes I'm not safe at
my house. So, I'm moving into his place for the interim.”

“For how long?” Stella asked.

“Hopefully not long; her stalker is becoming
desperate. The likelihood that he'll do something reckless grows by
the day. When he screws up, we'll catch him.”

Stella took a deep breath and exhaled. “Or
worse, hurt you both. Morgan, perhaps you shouldn't do the
fundraiser. Maybe you should step back and let your father handle
this.”

Morgan shook her head and glanced up at her
friend. Behind the worry and exhaustion, her eyes held a cool,
determined glint. “Dad said the same thing this afternoon. I can’t
do that Stella. I'm scared he won't be able to deal with the stress
and have another heart attack because of this.”

“Are you sure?” Stella asked.

Morgan nodded. She glanced over at Shawn who
stood calmly watching Morgan. Stella reached for her wineglass, and
took another sip. She didn't know what to say. One of her friend’s
most admirable traits was her determination to see things through
to the end. Morgan wasn't a quitter, but maybe, for once, she
wasn't being wise about this.

“Stella, what's for dinner?” Shawn asked.

“Huh?” The question caught her off guard.
“Oh, steak, salad, baked potatoes. Shawn, I need you to do me a
favor.”

“What do you need?”

“Will you barbeque the steaks? If you can’t,
I'll cook them on the George Forman grill.” Stella smiled and
batted her eyelashes playfully.

Shawn crooked a slight smile and took another
swig of his beer. “I take it you don’t cook outside often.”

“Yep,” Stella replied.

“No problem.”

“Thanks. You’re the man.” She tipped her
glass up at Shawn and smiled. Actually, she’d lied. She could
easily cook on her outdoor gas barbeque, but she needed an excuse
to get Shawn out of the way for a short while so she could talk
with her best friend in private.

She peered over at Morgan who’d polished off
about half the wine she’d poured. Stella pressed her lips together
and realized she needed to get food in her friend soon. “Why don't
we sit and decompress for a bit? The potatoes are in the oven and
won't be done for a while.” She opened the refrigerator door,
pulled out the artichoke jalapeno dip and the tortilla chips from
the pantry. After setting more things on a tray, she walked to the
den and set the food all down on the coffee table. She glanced
behind her. Shawn had placed his hand gently on the small of
Morgan's back as they came over and settled on the sofa.

They sat side-by-side. So close they almost
touched each other. Shawn reclined and extended his arm along the
back of the furniture behind Morgan. She reached down, lifted his
beer and slid a coaster under it. He leaned forward and handed her
a small cocktail napkin. Morgan scooped a chip in the dip and Shawn
mirrored her actions. From Stella's perspective, it was like
watching two people dance. One lead, the other followed. She
stifled a grin and took a sip of her wine. “So, how did the TV
interview go?”

“Okay, I think. They told us to watch the six
p.m. news. Can we turn on channel eleven, please?”

Stella took the remote, turned on the
television and sank back in the chair. The trio watched the
newscast and, at the end of the show, the interview aired. Stella
spoke after turning off the television. “Before you leave tonight
we need to get on the internet and check up on the auction
bids.”

Shawn slowly stood up. “I'll get things
started.”

Once Shawn stepped outside and closed the
door behind him, Stella turned to Morgan. “Okay, level with me. How
are you really doing?”

“Okay considering you don't go through this
stuff every day.”

Morgan glanced over and checked to ensure
Shawn hadn't come back inside and she took another sip of wine.
“He's carrying a gun,” Morgan whispered.

Stella didn't reply. What could she say to
her friend? If Shawn had armed himself, then the situation had
escalated to a highly dangerous state.

“I'm not completely comfortable about this,”
Morgan added.

“Shawn apparently thinks it necessary,”
Stella replied. “Remember, your stalker threatened him.”

Morgan's expression shifted, and she blinked
her eyes in an effort to stem the water which started to flow. She
took a ragged breath. “I'm scared how this may play out. Look at
me. I’m becoming a nervous wreck. I run a successful business and a
major fundraiser, but now I'm being urged to go into hiding.”

Stella leaned forward and softly touched
Morgan's arm. “You must have faith. You've got a knowledgeable
experienced person at your side. This will work itself out. You and
Shawn will be fine.”

Morgan stared down at the crumpled napkin in
her hand and nodded. “You're right. I know you're right.”

“Besides, think of the bright side. How many
women can say they have a handsome man at their beck and call
twenty-four hours a day? I personally could name more than a few
ladies who would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

Morgan smiled and shook her head slowly. “He
may be with me twenty-four hours a day, but he's not mine.”

Stella swallowed back her reply. Shawn's
attraction toward Morgan radiated off whenever he was within a few
feet of the woman. But for some reason, Morgan either couldn’t or
wouldn’t acknowledge this. “Can you give me a hand? I need to set
the dinner table and make a salad.”

“Sure, what do you want me to do?”

“Salad, I think.”

Stella carried the remaining chips and dip
back to the kitchen, and Morgan followed. As Morgan chopped
ingredients, Stella grabbed a bottle of water and the steaks out of
the refrigerator and walked out to the patio. She stepped outside
and looked over at the man who closed the lid on the grill. Shawn
had removed his tie but still wore his jacket and his red face
reminded her of a boiled lobster. She set the platter with the meat
on the side of the barbeque. “Shawn, take off your jacket. If you
don't, you'll die of heat stroke and besides, Morgan saw the
gun.”

“She told you, huh?”

He handed her the empty beer can as he shed
the clothing item and rolled up his sleeves. She took his coat and
handed him the water. “Yeah, she did. She's freaked out, just in
case you didn't know. Is the gun really necessary?”

“I don't want to scare either of you, but yes
I think it is. This situation is becoming explosive, and Morgan has
just figured it out.”

“You're right. She got the message loud and
clear,” Stella said. “But since you've known her only a short time
let me give you some insight into who Morgan Kennedy really is.
After William's heart attack, everybody assumed the Kennedys would
bring in outside management to run the store and fundraiser. She
surprised them by stepping into her father’s shoes. She’s succeeded
brilliantly. Her father is accustomed to calling the shots and
didn't make things easy for her in the beginning, but now she's
earned his trust and confidence. This business with her stalker
threatens to take that away. But know this, Morgan is William
Kennedy’s daughter in many ways. She’s a fighter.”

Shawn unscrewed the cap to the water and took
a large gulp before speaking. “I was in the office earlier in the
day with Morgan. Her old man is a character. They are both
passionate about this event being a success. How did they come up
with this fundraiser?”

“She didn't tell you?”

“No.” Shawn screwed the top back on the
plastic container. “Shoot.”

Stella grinned. “Poor word choice.”

Shawn ran his hand across his forehead and
wiped away sweat. “Sorry.”

Stella stepped in and lowered her voice.
“Morgan lost her brother, Samuel, to a swimming pool accident. He
struck his head on the diving board and his death nearly tore her
family apart. They started this charity fundraiser to ensure that
every possible avenue of treatment is available to anyone's child
in similar circumstances. This fundraiser will never be handed over
for professionals to run. To the Kennedy family this is
personal.”