A Man Like Morgan Kane (15 page)

"Both of them." James laid aside the wire brush he'd used to scrape the charred residue from the grill racks. "I figureBethany's a pretty tough lady and she can take care of herself. But Anne Marie's not so tough, no matter how good a front she puts up. I know what it's like to want and need a father. I had my old man, but I'd have been better off without him. Anne Marie never knew her father, so she's let her Nana fill her head with a bunch of stories about you. And she's convinced herself that you'd make the
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ideal father."

"I'll talk toBethanyand have her explain the situation to Anne Marie."

"So, you're not planning on being around for the long haul, are you? You're just staying until you've found out who really killed the great Jimmy Farraday."

"That's right. And I thought Anne Marie understood. The last thing I want to do is hurt that girl." He would never forgive himself if he causedBethany's child any grief. He had agreed to stay on inBirmingham and take this assignment in order to helpBethany, not to create more problems for her.

"Well, you'd better set Anne Marie straight. And the sooner the better. Before she has wedding invitations printed."

"I'll handle things," Morgan said. "Thanks for letting me know."

"No, problem. I like Anne Marie a lot. I don't want to see her get hurt any more than you do."

"I hope you mean that." Morgan laid his big hand on the boy's shoulder. "That little girl's got a major crush on you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. So?"

"When a girl feels about a guy the way she does you, it would be easy for him to take advantage of her."

Chuckling nervously, James shivered when Morgan tightened his hold on his shoulder.

"Look, I like Anne Marie. She's a sweet kid. But I know she's off limits. I'm already eighteen. A girl her age is jail bait." James's lips curved into a cocky, macho grin. "Besides, I can get what I want from plenty of other girls. You know, the ones smart enough to take care of themselves and just want to have a good time, the way I do."

"Yeah, I know all about those kinds of girls," Morgan said. "But does Anne Marie know—"

The back door swung open. "Does Anne Marie know what?" she asked.

James glanced past Morgan and smiled. "Hey, I've got to hit the road. It's going onten o'clockand I have stuff to do tonight."

"It's not that late." Anne Marie's voice held a trace of a whine, but she smiled at James. "Do you have to go now?"

"Yeah. I've got a late date." James looked at Morgan, his eyes speaking volumes.

"Oh." The smile vanished from Anne Marie's face. "I—I guess I'll see you this weekend at Grandmother's."

"Sure thing." James turned toBethany. "Thanks for dinner. Everything was delicious. Take care, huh? I know things are pretty rough right now, but with James Bond here—" he nodded toward Morgan "—on the case, we're bound to find out who really plugged the old man full of holes."

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"I'll walk you to the door." Anne Marie followed James into the house.

The moment the teenagers were out of earshot, Morgan said, "You should talk to Anne Marie about her crush on James. If she's not careful, she could wind up getting hurt."

"I've already talked to her."Bethanyblew out the candles on the table nearest to her. "She knows James thinks of her as a buddy and not as a girlfriend. She also knows that he dates other girls. But I can't dictate what Anne Marie can and cannot feel. I have no more control over her heart than she does. She loves James."

Morgan followedBethanyas she walked over to the other table and blew out the candles. "Hell, she's too young to know what love is. She's just at the age when hormones kick in and emotions go haywire."

Swirling around quickly,Bethanylooked up at him and shook her head. "What she's feeling may be what you and I would call puppy love, but to her it's just as real and strong as true love. Are you so cynical and hard-hearted that you can't remember what it was like the first time you fell in love?"

"When I was Anne Marie's age, I didn't have any idea what love was." Reaching out, he slid his hand behindBethany's head, slipped his fingers under her hair and grasped the back of her neck. "When I got a little older, I became personally acquainted with lust. I knew what it was to want a girl. To walk around aroused all the time. Just like James. But love never entered into my relationships. Not when I was a teenager."

"And what about later, when you were older?"Bethanyheld her breath, waiting for his answer.

"I've never been in love," he said, knowing beforehand that his admission would hurt her. He had never lied toBethanyin the past, and he wasn't going to start lying to her now. "Not ever."

"I see." She kept her gaze locked with his, her expression void of any emotion.

"I cared about you more than I ever cared for anyone. Please believe me." And I realized, too late, that I didn't want to lose you, that I wanted you to be a permanent part of my life.

"I do believe you." She closed her eyes, uncertain how much longer she could stand so close to him, listening to his confessions, and not fall apart. "I was foolish enough to confuse sex with love. That wasn't your fault, was it? You didn't make me any promises."

"Yes, I did." Tightening his hold on her neck, he drew her toward him as he lowered his head. "I didn't realize that I was promising you anything, but I was. Every time I kissed you. Every time I caressed you.

Every time I made love to you, I was making silent promises. I wasn't so stupid that I didn't know you thought love and sex were the same thing."

She wished he would stop talking, stop venting his guilt, stop trying so damn hard to atone for the past.

He had no idea what he'd done to her by leaving her alone—alone to bear his child and rear that child without him.

"Don't do this, Morgan," she pleaded.

"Open your eyes, Beth. Look at me."

She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him, a fine sheen of moisture blurring her vision.

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"I'm sorry that I made you promises I didn't keep," he told her, his lips almost touching hers. "I'm sorry that I left you behind when I went away. I'm sorry that I didn't take you with me."

"But you didn't take me with you, did you? And nothing can change that fact. All the guilt in the world won't change the past. Yours or mine." She jerked away from him, freeing herself from his strong grasp.

"Don't you see, honey? James Farraday reminds me of myself when I was a cocky, young SOB, and Anne Marie looks at him the way you used to look at me. He cares about her, just like I cared about you. He won't mean to hurt her, but sooner or later, he's not going to be able to resist all that sweet innocence."

"You're telling me not to trust James."

"Look, he seems like a good kid. Probably a lot better than I was at his age. But he's cocksure of himself and he's got a lot of bitterness inside him, just like I did."

"Surely you don't still think James might have killed his father, do you?"Bethanyasked.

Anne Marie gasped. She stood on the deck, her blue-gray eyes turning cold as she glared at Morgan.

"You can't possibly believe that James would kill his own father. How could you! He is the sweetest, nicest, most wonderful…" Whirling around, she fled into the house.

"Oh, Lord!"Bethanysighed. "Why did she have to overhear us? Just stay here. I'll go in and talk to her."

Morgan grabbedBethany's wrist, halting her. "Wait. Let me go in and talk to her. I'm the one she's angry with."

"All right. But please be careful what you say to her."

"You don't have to remind me that I don't know a damn thing about parenting. But I'm the one who made the mess, so I'm the one who should straighten it out."

Bethanynodded in agreement.

Morgan found Anne Marie hunched in one of the Louis XVI chairs, her elbows resting on the kitchen table. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed softly.

"Will you let me talk to you?" he asked. "Will you give me a chance to explain?"

For several minutes she didn't respond; she sat there gulping quietly, then slowly nodded her head. "I'm listening."

For the life of him, Morgan didn't know why he had the overwhelming urge to lift Anne Marie out of her chair and wrap her protectively in his arms. Her tears touched him, made him want to wipe them away and promise her that he wouldn't ever let anyone hurt her again. His need to comfortBethany's child consumed him.

Morgan shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Leaning backward, bracing himself on the heels of his feet, he looked up at the ceiling and pondered just what to say to make things right again. "I don't think James killed his father."

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Anne Marie spun around and stared athim. "Then why didMama ask you if you still thought James killed Jimmy?"

"Because James is on our list of suspects."

When Anne Marie opened her mouth to protest, Morgan held up a restraining hand.

"Wait just a minute before you go off on another tangent. Everyone who had motive and opportunity is on that list. James hated his father and he was at the television station when Jimmy was shot."

"But James didn't kill Jimmy any more than Mama did. I know him. He'd never—"

"I tend to agree with you," Morgan said. "After spending a little time with James and talking to him tonight, I don't think he's our murderer."

"Then why don't you trust him? I heard Mama say that you didn't think she should trust James."

"Just how much did you hear?" Morgan walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down beside her.

Wiping her tear-streaked face, Anne Marie squirmed in the chair until she was sitting up straight. "That's all I heard. Just that you didn't trust James and that you'd thought he killed his father."

"I don't trust the boy," Morgan admitted. "I don't trust him with you."

Anne Marie's eyes widened. Her mouth gaped. "What do you mean you don't trust him with me?" She pointed her index finger at her chest.

"I was just warning your mother to be careful and not let young Farraday break your heart." Morgan grasped Anne Marie's chin. "I suppose I was playing substitute father. I was a teenage boy once myself, you know, and … well, if I was your father, I'd keep every boy in the world away from you until you were at least thirty. Especially any of them you looked at the way you look at James."

"Oh, Morgan!" She came up out of the chair like a cannon blast and grabbed Morgan around the neck.

"I'm sorry I misunderstood. I've never had a father to worry about me and try to protect me from boys.

Thank you. I love the idea of your acting as my substitute father."

She hugged him, her strong young arms squeezing him affectionately. Slowly, cautiously, Morgan lifted his arms and wrapped them around the girl, returning her hug.

Hell! What had he done now? Had he created a bigger mess than the one he'd just cleaned up? No matter how much he cared aboutBethanyor might wish that Anne Marie was his child instead of Amery's, he couldn't allow this sweet young girl to start thinking of him as her father. His stay inBirminghamwasn't permanent. And any relationships he formed while he was here would be only temporary.

Before he had a chance to fully form his thoughts, let alone put his thoughts into action, Anne Marie grabbed his hand, pulled him out of the chair and toward the back door.

"Come on." Tugging on his hand, she led him outside onto the deck, then released her hold on him and gave him a shove down the steps, "Go on. You and Mama deserve some quiet time alone. I'm going up
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to my room and get ready for bed."

"Are you all right?"Bethany's concerned gaze fell on her daughter's smiling face.

"Fine. Couldn't be better. Morgan explained everything." She waved to her mother. "Good night. See y'all in the morning."

"Good night."Bethanylooked at Morgan, her eyes questioning him. "And how did you perform that miracle?"

"I told her that I didn't believe James killed his father."

"Is that the truth?'

"I wouldn't lie to Anne Marie."

In her peripheral vision,Bethanynoticed a shadow move across the deck. Every muscle in her body tensed. Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder.

"Anne Marie! I thought you were going to bed."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or disturb you," Anne Marie said. "I thought I'd change the CDs on the player and put on something y'all might like."

"Thank you,"Bethanysaid. "Now, go to bed."

"I put on Mama's favorite song." Anne Marie winked at Morgan. "Something tells me that you'll recognize it the minute you hear it."

"Young lady!"Bethanyglared at her daughter.

"I'm gone." Anne Marie rushed inside, slamming the door behind her.

"I don't know what she's done or why, but I'm turning off that stupid CD player."

The momentBethanystarted toward the deck, the music began—the tinkling, throbbing of a piano's heartbeat. Slow and sweet and mournful. She froze on the spot.

Oh, dear God. No! Not that song.Bethanydidn't think she could bear it. Anne Marie had no idea what she'd done.

She had to turn it off, had to shut out the memories before they flooded her mind and heart. Why had she ever told Anne Marie that this was her favorite song? She had never dreamed that someday she'd hear it again with Morgan.

Bob Seger's sandpaper-rough voice pleaded for her to stay, promising nothing beyond this one night as he sang "We've Got Tonight." Wrapping his arms around her, Morgan drewBethany's back up against his chest, lowered his head and brushed his lips across the side of her forehead.