The Right Thing (7 page)

“Thanks, honey,” Morgan said, dropping back onto his seat. He opened the ketchup bottle one-handed, put some on his plate, and picked up a fry.

“You still have my hand,” Thea told him, yanking but finding his grip still strong.

“You still have my interest,” Morgan said reasonably. “Next time I get that close to kissing you, I’m not going to stop. Hell, I’m not going to be able to. Let’s date and see what happens.”

“No,” Thea said, tugging her hand from his at last and rubbing her wrist when he finally let go. “Go find a younger woman.”

“No,” Morgan said, picking up a fat fry. “I want to date you. Am I supposed to eat these with a fork? I just get carried away sometimes. You ever get so engrossed in something that you completely forget manners and everything else?”

“You’re confusing me,” Thea told him.

“Well you’re straightening me
and
my thinking out. Yes, that means what you think it does. I’m interested in you
that way,
Thea,” Morgan said, laughing.

“Stop,” Thea ordered. “No more flirting. I am not interested. And you—you are not interested. If you don’t stop teasing me, I’m going—I’m going to—I’ll
tell
your father.”

Morgan seriously thought about jumping over the bar and backing Thea against it in answer to that dare. He couldn’t remember a woman ever threatening to tell on him for trying to seduce her. The appeal of shocking her was seriously huge and damn hard to ignore.

“Great. Go ahead. Tell my father. Who do you think I went to for advice? Dad will just tell you to stop being afraid and take a chance. He’ll tell you life is too short to do anything else. I know because that’s what he told me yesterday when I told him I was interested in you,” Morgan said, forking up a bite of her excellent coleslaw.

“Gerald is not always right,” Thea said harshly.

“Maybe not,” Morgan agreed. “But he’s right more often than most people.”

“I am not going to date you—or anything else,” Thea said firmly.

Morgan shrugged. “If you want the passion without the friendship, we can do that. It’s what I’m used to doing with women. It’s not all I want with you, but I’ll take what you’re willing to give. You may not let me into your life, but I think you’re going to let me into you before it’s done. It’s the call of the wild and we’re both howling. It’s only a matter of time when the pull is this strong.”

“That’s never going to happen between us,” Thea said sharply.

Morgan ate a few fries before he said anything more.

“You need to add some seasoned salt to these fries. Maybe a little pepper. Don’t be so stringy on the spice, Thea.”

Thea reached under the bar, lifted a few containers, and slammed them down in front of Morgan’s plate.

“Here. Knock yourself out,” she told him, hoping her glare was making it clear how she felt.

Morgan surprised both of them by grabbing one of her hands again and dipping several of Thea’s fingers in the pile of ketchup on his plate. Then he put one of her ketchup covered fingers into his mouth and sucked the ketchup off, stroking her finger with his tongue as he did so. It took about three seconds for Morgan to realize he’d gotten more than he planned. The woman was every bit as delicious as she looked.

“Stop that,” Thea ordered, her voice husky and defensive.

“No. Now
this
is spicy,” Morgan said, moving to suck the ketchup from the next finger.

Thea’s closed her eyes to keep Morgan from seeing how much she liked what he was doing. How long had it been since she’d felt the heat flare in this way? She was already starting to melt. If she opened her eyes, the man would know and that would be very, very bad. The frustrating conversation alone had shown her quite clearly Morgan Reed was not the kind of man a woman should cut her wididity teeth on, definitely not.

When her eyes closed and the blush started creeping up her neck into her face, Morgan’s arousal level went from twenty percent to a hundred and fifty pretty much instantly. If sexual desire had been the extent of it, he would have sucked Thea’s finger until she was begging for a lot more.

And then he would definitely have gone over the bar to give it to her.

But it wasn’t that simple. No, it wasn’t simple at all.

Morgan wanted to taste every last inch of Thea and see if her eyes stayed closed the whole time or if she had an edge that once crossed would turn her as needy and anxious as he was in that moment. He wanted to know how hard Thea blushed when the pleasure became unbearable. Morgan wanted to
be
the one that caused that level of pleasure for her and watch it overtake her.

The knot of need in his stomach to do those things was an unfamiliar pain. Morgan honestly couldn’t remember wanting, really wanting a woman as badly as he wanted Althea Carmichael at the moment.

Maybe his first woman, he thought, studying Thea and her still mostly closed eyes as he let her finger slide gently out of his mouth.

No, not even his first had been like this, he admitted, watching Thea’s erratic breathing with a craving to explore it that he had to fight with every ounce of his self-control.

Damn it, Dad. Did you have to be so right about her?

“Ketchup tastes better on you than the fries,” Morgan said hoarsely, holding Thea’s now trembling hand in his and fighting not to push things any further.

Lifting the paper napkin from his lap, he gently and thoroughly wiped the ketchup from the last of Thea’s fingers, studying her still closed eyes as he did.

“This is not what I want to do,” he said softly, “but if I don’t stop tasting you, I’m coming around this bar. God only knows what will happen if I do that.”

“Morgan,” Thea said, opening her eyes and fixing her aroused gaze on his.

This time it was Morgan who felt the panic because the look of longing on her face was practically irresistible.

“Look, Thea, I never meant to—I didn’t know myself until I’d—my God, woman, I want to kiss you so bad,” he told her, the honest admission ripping from his gut and demanding to be said. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this.”

Morgan lifted Thea’s quivering hand to his mouth again, but it was to kiss her palm this time. Her palm was cool, but his mouth was hot on her. When the moan of pleasure from a soul-deep longing escaped him, Morgan saw panic of a biblical proportion in Thea’s startled gaze.

Thea shook her head. “No. No. You can’t—I can’t—I don’t want this, Morgan. You’re leaving in a few months. This can’t happen. I don’t date. I don’t want to get involved.”

Morgan made himself let go of her. He picked up his sandwich with a hand that was shaking, and forced himself to take a calming bite of something other than her. He chewed slowly and swallowed before answering.

“Even if I stayed away from you, which I’m not sure I can do now, I promise you I would be thinking about how you tasted for the rest of my life. I’m not into torture. If you tell me you really don’t feel the attraction between us, I’ll pay for my meal and leave you alone for the next four months,” Morgan said, his eyes on his plate, his voice hard with determination. “But you better be damn convincing because I really do want you.”

When Morgan lifted his gaze, the only thing he saw was Thea’s excellent rear end disappearing into the kitchen.

At least she had enough honesty not lie about her own arousal, he thought. Not that Morgan would have believed her after watching the blush climb her face while he sucked her finger. What in the world would make a fifty-four-year-old woman get embarrassed that way over her own arousal? Hell—she had been married and for a long time. It wasn’t like she was a twenty year old who didn’t know what sex was.

He dipped another fry in ketchup, automatically lifting it to his mouth, and then changed his mind, setting it back on his plate. It was already going to be difficult enough to walk in the state he was in. The last thing he needed was more provocation.

Sighing, Morgan finished everything but the fries, and tucked fifteen dollars under his plate before he left.

He decided a strategic retreat on his part was the best thing for both of them today.

Chapter 6

Thea saw the “Do Not Disturb” sign, knocked quietly, and pushed the door open a crack. Gerald was sitting by Delilah’s bedside reading to her. They both turned to look at her when she entered.

“Is it time for medicine?” Delilah asked politely.

Thea saw there was little or no recognition in Delilah’s gaze of who she was. Today—today was obviously not one of the good days.

She walked to the bed and picked up her mother-in-law’s hand. “No ma’am. I just came to see how you were.”

“I’m fine. This nice man is reading to me. He says he comes every day,” Delilah told her.

“He does indeed,” Thea confirmed. “It’s because you’re so beautiful. All the men want to come read to you.”

Delilah laughed weakly, even though she no longer knew why. It was something about the woman’s smile that told her what was said was meant to be funny.

“You’re beautiful, too,” Delilah told her politely in return.

“Thank you,” Thea said, bending to kiss her cheek.

If the doctor was right, they could lose her most any day now. It seemed too surreal to actually happen.

Thea’s gaze went to Gerald, who was looking at Delilah with more love than Thea could bear seeing.

She knew he was grieving already, grieving for what was just ahead. But Gerald came back every day, most of which the woman he loved didn’t even know who he was. His determination to spend whatever money he could to have her know him for as long as possible made all the sense in the world to her.

Unfortunately, their hope for a miracle had run out.

“Gerald, could I see you for a minute?” Thea asked.

She had to tell him even though she’d rather take a beating than do it.

Gerald patted Delilah’s hand and headed out after Thea.

“No good news, I take it,” Gerald said, understanding from the look on Thea’s face just how bad it was.

“They say Delilah’s heart and lungs are weakening every day. She could go any time. I’m sorry, Gerald. This is the last month they’ll give her the medicine. They said there is no reason to do so anymore, and it’s hard on her body. Dr. Brown said that with her blood flow weakening to the brain, she’ll likely be slipping into a coma in the next week or so,” Thea hung her head, swallowing and fighting not to cry.

Gerald didn’t need tears. There would be enough of those later, Thea knew. Right now, the man needed a shoulder to lean on. Thank God for Aunt Lydia.

“You’re a good woman, Althea,” Gerald said, lifting his hand to her face, smiling when she turned her lips into his palm to kiss it. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I know it’s easier to lie about these things, but it helps me to know what’s going on.”

“Can I—can I do anything else to help?” Thea asked. “I’ll call her sister, but she’s also in a nursing home. There’s really no one else.”

“Tell Lydia,” Gerald said firmly. “She will want to know. She and Delilah’s other friends will want to come by before—well, before.”

Thea kissed his palm again and nodded stiffly as she walked away.

*** *** ***

“Thea lunching with her accountant again?” Morgan asked Amy.

Amy shook her head. “No. She’s handling some family business. She should be back any time now.”

Morgan dipped a seasoned crinkle cut fry in ketchup, and thought of Thea as he took a bite.

“I heard her tell Pete to spice up the fries a little and that you had complained about the food. Was that really your idea?” Amy asked.

“Yeah. I guess it was—in a roundabout way,” Morgan conceded. “I didn’t actually think she cared about what I thought.”

“It takes me two hours to get a real answer out of the woman. You have to have a lot patience when you talk to her,” Amy said, stacking clean glasses on the back of the bar.

“Now you tell me,” Morgan teased, making Amy laugh. Right on cue, Thea walked in as they were doing so.

Morgan sighed, figuring he was in for another round of debate. Amy just laughed harder because of the disgruntled look on his face.

Both of them were surprised when Thea stopped in front Morgan’s bar stool. “Can I see you in my office after you’re done eating?”

“Sure,” Morgan said, wondering what was up. “You okay?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to brush it all off, but she needed him—needed the distraction he could provide, if nothing else.

“No,” Thea said honestly. “Someone I love is dying and I can’t stop it. Someone else I care about is hurting, and I can’t stop that either. I don’t know what to do about it, so I need your help.”

“You got it,” Morgan said firmly. “I’ll be right there.”

Thea nodded and walked slowly through the kitchen doors, not even setting them swinging.

“Any light you can shed on this?” Morgan asked Amy.

Amy shook her head no.

“Thea doesn’t share much with anyone. I’ve never known her to ask for help before or to say what was bothering her. In fact, I’ve never seen that woman look so defeated since—since Angus died,” she finished, looking to see if it bothered Morgan to hear it. All she saw was concern in his face.