Free Damned If You Don't by Linda J. Parisi Page A

being hurt.”
    He grinned, rose, and then gave her a swift peck on the cheek. “Guess I’m going to have to convince you the hard way. Go take your bath. By the time you’re finished, room service will be here.”
    Morgan shook her head. Jack was Jack. She rose and shrugged. He wasn’t about to give up but neither was she.
    * * * *
    Nearly an hour later and feeling definitely more human, Morgan stepped out of the bathroom. The aroma of dinner made her mouth water. He’d even ordered a bottle of wine.
    “I thought we were on a budget,” she said, before her tone turned nasty. Was her desire to be bitchy because she was afraid of what would happen if she allowed him to be nice?
    “We are. I kept it simple. I could have spent a lot more.” He opened the bottle, pulling out the cork with way more force than necessary. “Do you want to have a glass, or not?”
    Morgan frowned. Her emotions were already riding a colossal roller coaster; he didn’t have to add to her angst. Or maybe that was his way of retaliating. “I don’t get it. Not too long ago you were being nice. Now you’re not. You doing the good-cop, bad-cop thing?”
    “No. I just got testy. I really am trying.”
    “Try harder.”
    She watched his jaw clench, but he had the good sense not to answer, which made her feel better.
    “I’m hungry,” he stated, placing dishes and cutlery on the small table. “How about we eat first, fight later.”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    “Then we can have make-up sex,” he added with a wink. Funny, but Jack’s moods seemed mercurial. And about as stable as her own.
    Morgan threw him a look, sat down at the table, and lifted the cover to her dish. She inhaled. “Heavenly.” The chicken, covered in sauce and mushrooms, looked delicious. And asparagus, green and seemingly cooked to perfection. She lifted her wineglass after he poured.
    “What shall we drink to?” he asked. “Us, perhaps?”
    “No. Let’s drink to the truth.”
    He stared at her as if to say she needed to learn that one as much as he did. However, he lifted his glass and replied, “Truth it is.”
    They ate in near silence, both of them starving. Then Jack cleared away the dishes. Once he’d placed the tray in the hallway and come back into the room she asked, “Do you want to go downstairs now and let me show you the data stick?”
    “No, I have a better idea.” His gaze lasered into her, bypassing hot, hotter, and hottest all the way to supernova. “I’ll show you my stick first.”
    He didn’t give her a chance to say no. He rose, walked around the table, lifted her out of her seat, and simply pulled her tight against his body. Even though Morgan had known he would try, she hadn’t expected immediate capitulation. Oh, pride? Hello? You in there?
    Talk about being betrayed. By her own body, no less. It knew exactly what it wanted and refused to accept no for an answer. He feathered kisses over her forehead, down her cheek, grazing her lips with his. Delicate shivers racked her muscles. Her hands clenched at her sides. She willed them not to move. She refused to give him an inch.
    He took a mile. He lifted her up and threw her onto the middle of the bed. “All right, kitten. We’ll play this your way. I already know you’re hotter than a furnace for me right now, but if you want me to prove it, then I guess I’ll just have to prove it.”
    He pounced on her, covering her body with his. At first, he simply kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. Until she knew she was going to go insane if he didn’t play with the other parts of her body.
    She squirmed, trying to get her hips against his.
    He finally came up for air with a soft laugh. “Oh no, kitten. I’m not going to do this with clothes on. So you make up your mind right now. Yes or no?”
    Was he kidding?
    Morgan found her pride cowering in a corner in the face of desire. God, she was going to hate herself in the morning. Or was she? A thought entered her head that